Dirge of Emerald
by Negative8Zero
Summary: Severitus, year five. Upon receiving a letter to inform them that Harry Potter will no longer be in their neglectful care, the Dursleys are elated. So is Harry - until he finds out that Snape is to be his new guardian. HP/DM SLASH! Abuse! AU! TOTALLY ABANDONED IT MAKES ME CRINGE SORRY. It's been two years, time for me to let go.
1. Lemon Drop, Severus?

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** I have red hair, not blonde; I'm American, not British; I'm only fifteen, not...however old Rowling is; I am completely and utterly broke, not rich; although I'm trying my hardest, and editing my novel every day, I am not an author. I am not J.K. Rowling, and unfortunately do not owe the H.P. World. And goodness me, that was long. xD!

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**Summary: **Upon receiving a letter to inform them that Harry Potter will no longer be in their neglectful care, the Dursleys are elated. So is Harry—until he finds out that Severus Snape is to be his new guardian.

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**Time Frame: **This takes place in the summer after Goblet of Fire, and in fifth year. Yes, Umbridge will be there; I'm going to have fun torturing her. I hate the bitch as much as I hate Lockhart.

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**A/N:** This is not something I would usually write. In fact, this is my very first Harry Potter fanfiction. Take it easy on me, eh? Yes, this is a Severitus fanfiction...like, Snape is Harry's dad. It won't seem that way at first, but at maybe about chapter five or six Severus is going to start noticing that Harry is changing. Soon enough, Harry will find out that the guy is his father. I'm not saying how, but it won't be the cliché letter idea, haha. Anyway, enjoy!

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**Chapter One:** Lemon Drop, Severus?

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If he had to choose (on the threat of a painful death), Severus Snape would pick Saturday as his favorite day of the week. There were no dunderheads to teach, no atrocious essays to grade, no need to get up at the crack of dawn—and no crazy old headmasters calling you down to their office, just to ask if you wanted a Lemon Drop. He did not want the Muggle sweet, thank you very much, Albus Dumbledore.

Yes, Saturday was indeed the day for relaxation.

Especially during the summer.

Of course, being able to without being lectured by McGonagall, Snape enjoyed a nice lie-in before staggering out of bed at quarter to eleven, which by that time the sun was high and bright in the cloudless, forget-me-not blue sky. After showering and washing his hair at least twice (Dumbledore had informed him, with that infuriating twinkle in his eye, that it was getting greasy again), he dressed in his usual black robes and stalked into his kitchen (he most certainly did not _stalk_. He billowed) to make himself some breakfast.

Snape ate slowly, trying to take as much time as possible. For, on a gorgeous day like this, there was no telling if one of the teachers would make an attempt to get him outside for once.

No, thank you; he had potions to brew.

So, it was with an uncharacteristically light heart that Severus finished his breakfast of eggs and bacon, and headed down to the dungeons to begin brewing said potions. The day dragged by peacefully, without any sign of something unusual happening. By lunch time, Snape was in the best mood he'd been in for a long time; he'd finished twelve different potions (he wasn't the Potions Master for nothing, after all) and had sent six of them up to Madam Pomfrey, and saved the rest for his private stores. After all, it was nice to have a little bit of truth serum on you, in case a certain Potter boy broke the rules the next school year.

As it was widely known, Severus dislike Harry. No—dislike was too weak a word. Actually, Severus Snape _hated_ Harry Potter.

However, he told himself, he had good reason to. He and Potter's father had not been the best of mates. Quite the contrary.

As quickly as the thoughts of Potter came, Snape banished them. He needed no Harrys to ruin his good mood. Dumbledores and Trelawneys were already quite adept at doing so. Which was why his good mood vanished when, while he was heading back to his private quarters after delivering the potions to Madam Pomfrey, he heard the sound of somebody muttering to themselves.

"Hello, Severus!" Trelawney greeted him in her misty voice. "I was gazing at my crystal ball when I saw—"

"That's nice," Snape said flatly. "Did you need anything, or did you simply come to waste my afternoon with gibberish?"

Looking rather offended, Trelawney shuffled a deck of what seemed to be cards. _Why the the hell would she need cards to tell the bloody future?_ Severus wondered, amazed at the woman's never-ending stupidity. "Actually," she said, this time a bit brusquely, "headmaster Dumbledore wishes for you to go see him."

Snape gritted his teeth. "Let him know that I'm occupied at the moment."

"But, my dear boy, you're merely standing in the—"

"_Occupied,_ you infernal woman. Go tell him to keep away for another hour or two." Pivoting on his heel, the Potion's Master swept down the hallway into the dungeons. He was nearly back to his quarters when Professor McGonagall came over. She looked irritated.

"Severus," she said tartly, "stop this nonsense and go to Dumbledore. He—"

"Needs a favor, I'm sure," Snape growled, resisting the sudden urge to face-palm. "Did Trelawney send you?"

McGonagall nodded. "She said you called her an 'infernal woman'?"

"Yes," said Snape silkily, "I happened to call her such."

She smiled a bit reluctantly. "Good boy."

"I'm no child, Minerva."

"Sometimes you behave as if you are," she muttered. "Especially when you're grumbling about something somebody did to 'ruin your perfect mood.'"

"I'll let you know that I was occupied—"

"Doing what? Skulking around the school?"

"I do not—"

"Yes, you do, Severus."

"Stop interrupting me, woman!" Snape snarled, and took a deep, calming breath. "All right. Obviously, Dumbledore needs me; otherwise, he would not have sent you. Merlin knows that he'll simply floo himself straight into my living room and ask me if I want a Lemon Drop with that damned twinkle in his eye..."

McGonagall snorted. "Nonsense. In fact, he seemed a bit worried."

Ignoring that last bit, Snape stormed down to Dumbledore's office and let himself in without knocking. "I'm here," he announced darkly. _Though I'm not glad about it,_ he added silently.

Dumbledore looked up at him, that stupid twinkle in his eye. "Severus, my boy," he said pleasantly. "Sit."

My boy. How old did he think Snape was? Ten? Still, he sat, feeling uncomfortable under Dumbledore's happy-go-lucky gaze. "Minerva said you requested my presence," he said, breaking the short silence.

"Lemon Drop, Severus?" Dumbledore asked him with a smile.

"No, thanks," he said, a bit harshly. Dumbledore's smile merely grew.

"I insist, Severus."

_ "No thank you." _Snape glared at him. Someday, just to see the old man's reaction, he was going to have to take him up on the offer of the sweet. Hopefully, the wizard wouldn't go into cardiac arrest. "Dumbledore, tell me why you requested my presence or I'll leave."

Dumbledore sighed. "Always straight to the point," he said quietly, almost to himself, before clearing his throat. "It seems that we've uncovered something...interesting."

"Interesting how?" Severus asked suspiciously. He continued: "Good interesting, or bad interesting?"

"I'm afraid it's a bad interesting," Dumbledore said. Suddenly, he appeared grave. "We have reason to believe that one of the students in our school has been living in unsatisfactory conditions for quite a while now. He's been neglected, and quite possibly beaten by his relatives."

Something dark and deadly was uncoiling in the pit of Snape's stomach. If it was somebody he cared about...(of course, he didn't allow himself to care _too_ much about somebody, but it was the thought that counted).

"It's not somebody too close to you," Dumbledore added, as if he'd read the younger man's thoughts. Snape immediately Occluded his mind. Although the old man always insisted that he never used Legilimency on him, Severus always had the sneaking suspicion that the wizard lied about that.

"I see," he said, feeling a bit more comfortable now. "And who is this young man of whom you speak of...?"

"It may come as a bit of a shock," the headmaster warned him, and his thoughts went immediately to Draco Malfoy. The boy had _everything_. If he was being abused, Snape would gladly have a heart attack and perhaps even die. Again, he would do it gladly. Wait, no...If it was Malfoy, he would eat every single wretched Lemon Drop Dumbledore had. And then he would be fat, happy, filled with sugar, as round as a pancake, and most likely have the worst case of diarrhea known to man.

Oh, that was a nasty image..._I wonder what a fat Albus would look like? Or a fat Minerva...A fat Potter._ He had to stifle a snort, and nearly missed Dumbledore's next words.

"A house-elf came to us with his suspicions."

Didn't the Malfoys have a house-elf named Dobby? _No,_ Severus reminded himself, still entertaining himself with the thought of a fat Dumbledore, _the insolent Potter boy freed the thing in his second year. Lucius wouldn't shut up about it for weeks._

If not Draco, then who could it be? A few seconds later, watching Snape carefully to make sure the man didn't go into cardiac arrest at the sound of the poor boy's name, Dumbledore gave him the answer to his question.

"Harry Potter."


	2. Free At Last?

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** Some woman in Spain (I think) now legally owns the sun, but is kindly lending it to everyone, because, whilst she could claim for all the energy it produces, she could also be sued for every instance of skin cancer, sun burn, and forest fires caused by the sun's harmful yet lovely rays (what a contradiction). Rowling is kindly lending me the characters and settings of the Harry Potter world, mainly because she doesn't know I'm using them.

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**A/N:** If you've reviewed my story already, you've probably realized that I'm editing the thing. Crap is what you get when you're up at two in the morning and writing stuff, so crap is what I'm going to fix as of now, before I update the thing. Haha.

Oh, and by the way...I've changed my mind. The letter will arrive in either chapter three or chapter four. You'll see how. ^^

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**Chapter Two:** Free At Last...?

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"Headmaster," Severus Snape began patiently, "you have GOT TO BE JOKING!"

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "My boy, you're going to give yourself a sore throat if you yell too loudly," he chided gently.

"I DON'T CARE!" Snape shouted. He stood so abruptly that his chair toppled backward with a crash. "Who is it really?" he demanded, seething. "Draco Malfoy? Somebody else that I know well and at least somewhat care about?"

Sighing, Dumbledore shook his head and waited for Severus to calm down. He was now blurting random names, going as far as to even suggest that the (annoying) Creevy brothers were the ones being mistreated by their family. "Severus," he said softly, "calm yourself."

"It's the Creevy brothers, isn't it? They always have craved attention!"

"Sev—"

"It can_not_ be Potter!"

"Severus Snape!" Dumbledore thundered. Startled, Snape fell silent. "Calm yourself, or I'll be forced to throw you out of my office until you've cooled down." Once Severus had taken a few deep, steadying breaths and had sat back down, he continued: "He'll need a new guardian."

Snape took another deep breath. "Send him to the Weasleys," he said flatly.

Dumbledore sent him a reproachful look. "You know that he would be less safe there."

"The Granger's, then."

"They're Muggles," Dumbledore reminded him. "They wouldn't be able to protect him."

"Send him off to his godfather."

"A man who's wanted by the Ministry of Magic? Severus, that would be ridiculous."

"The werewolf, then."

"You just stated the problem. Remus is a werewolf."

Severus let his breath out in an angry hiss. "There is absolutely nowhere that he could go to," he muttered. Suddenly, a suspicion struck him. "Albus," he said slowly, eyes narrowing. That infuriating twinkle was back in Dumbledore's eyes. "You're not truly thinking of...no...you'd have to be insane to suggest that _I_ take the boy...you're out of your mind..."

With a smile, Dumbledore patted his shoulder. "Harry won't kill you, you know," he said cheerfully. Snape suddenly began to have suicidal thoughts. _I could close my eyes and walk right off of the Astronomy Tower...nobody would even notice for a few days, I'm sure._ "I'd better make preparations for you to go pick him up."

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_Rap. Rap. Rap._

Harry Potter groaned, rolling over in bed and covering his head with his pillow. He didn't want to wake up...it was so early...Capturing the sleep that threatened to ebb away from him, he dozed off for a moment before the tapping resumed.

_ Rap. Rap. Rap._

"I'm coming," he murmured, thinking it was the newspaper owl. Stretching languidly, he opened his eyes and grabbed his glasses. When he could see properly, he glanced at the newly-barred window and frowned. There was no owl, or Daily Prophet, there. He swung his legs out of bed, hopping off of the lumpy mattress and padding over to the door. Why would somebody be knocking...?

_ RAP! RAP! RAP!  
><em>"On my way!" he said hastily, rushing across the room and opening the door. His Aunt Petunia glared down at him. "Bloody—!"

Aunt Petunia's fist was centimeters away from his face, for she had obviously been about to knock again, and Petunia's face flickered with the alarm that mirrored Harry's own cross-eyed expression. Then it was gone, to be replaced by something close to contempt. "Hurry up, boy," she said flatly. "You got a strange letter."

"The—the normal way?" he asked, nearly saying the word "wizard." He would have paid dearly if he had done so.

"Normal for freaks like you, yes," Petunia snapped. "Hurry up, and comb your hair!"

Harry hurried to pull on some socks and comb his fingers through his hair; he knew the Dursleys hated it when he looked unkempt in front of somebody that wasn't part of "his lot." Then he walked down the stairs after Aunt Petunia. He feeling uneasy. He hadn't received a letter—from anybody—in about a month now. Suddenly, he realized it was his birthday, and his heart leaped. Maybe he'd received an invitation to stay at Ron's house! "Aunt Petunia, who sent—"

"Don't ask questions!"

The Golden Rule.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry mumbled, and was about to go into the kitchen when his Uncle Vernon exited it and grabbed him roughly by the upper arm.

"Follow me, boy," he growled, dragging Harry into the living room and tossing him onto the couch. "So," he said finally, a nasty grin on his face. Immediately, Harry's heart sank down and came to a rest somewhere in his toes. _"So."_

Harry resisted the urge to ask, "So what?" Instead he frowned slightly, albeit politely. "Is something the matter?" he asked curiously.

"You didn't tell us that you'd been kicked out," Vernon said, looking as if Christmas had come early.

"Kicked out?" Harry gaped at him. "Out of Hogwarts, or—?"

"Kicked out of Privet Drive!" Vernon exclaimed. "We didn't even kick you out; your crackpot fool of a headmaster did."

Harry felt as if his lungs had been punctured, he felt so happy. "D-Dumbledore is sending me somewhere else?" He felt like an idiot. Obviously, his own dreams had come true. What a great birthday present! "Can I read my letter?"

Vernon shoved it at him.

_To the guardians of Harry Potter,_

_There are plans for Harry's home location to be changed. As long as you sign the enclosed parchment, he will no longer be in your care; somebody from Hogwarts will be coming to pick him up on July 31st. Thank you for your cooperation, and have a nice holiday_

—_Albus Dumbledore_

"I can't believe it," Harry murmured. "He's actually getting me out of here. _Finally!_"

As soon as he said that, he regretted it; something hard and meaty collided with his face, sending him sprawling back on the couch cushions. Uncle Vernon glared bloody murder at him, towering over the small fourteen-year-old. "YOU UNGRATEFUL FREAK!" he roared. "How DARE you insult my home and family!"

Quickly, before he was punched again, Harry bolted for his bedroom; he took the letter, but left the parchment that the Dursleys had to sign to make him a free man. Closing and locking his door, he leaned against his wardrobe and breathed hard. Already, it felt as if there was going to be a swollen bruise on his cheekbone. _Brilliant,_ he thought dully. _Just as I learn that somebody's going to be coming to take me away today, I get a bruise. What are they going to think? That I'm abused?_

"I'm not abused," he muttered aloud, closing his eyes and massaging his temples. His stomach growled, but he ignored the hunger pains. It had been three days since he'd eaten, but he could deal with it. He always had before. The Dursleys wouldn't _kill_ him...they were too cowardly to even attempt it.

However, that fear never stopped them from beating him to a pulp and starving him for days on end. Once, Vernon had even whipped him with a belt. He could still remember the excruciating pain. When the lash marks had become infected, and had nearly killed him, they'd never dared to attempt it again. Thank Merlin, too. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to take it a second time.

With a sigh, Harry collapsed onto his bed and closed his eyes. "Happy birthday," he whispered to himself, just as there was a loud knock on the front door of Number Four, Privet Drive.

"GET DOWN HERE!" Petunia screeched up at him; Harry began to shove his meager belongings into his trunk, and slammed it shut before seizing his wand and Hedwig's cage and thundering down the stairs.

When he stopped in front of the door, panting, Harry flinched as Uncle Vernon gripped his arm tightly and shook him a bit. "Tell them you dropped a book on your face," he ordered sharply before opening the door. There was a look of contempt on his face. "You're here to pick up the boy?"

"Unfortunately," an all too familiar voice drawled. Harry froze, and closed his eyes. _Please, don't let it be who it sounds like...please don't be—_

Unaware that Harry Potter's desperate prayers were being duly ignored, Severus Snape, the man who loathed the very sight of the boy, stepped into the Dursley's home.

Happy birthday indeed.


	3. Hell in a Handbasket

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** Some people write songs. Some people write poetry. Some people write novels. Some people write fanfiction. There's a difference between the first three and the fourth: while some people make up their own worlds, characters, and settings, us fanfic writers bring everybody out to play. We also steal a few things here and there, but it would be better not to mention that. ;)

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**A/N:** All right! I said in the first chapter that it wouldn't be the USUAL cliché letter thingie. I didn't say there wasn't going to be a letter, muahaha. There will be a letter...you just don't know how it's going to be sent and stuff.

Sorry I'm updating so late. I update pretty infrequently. =P!

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**Chapter Three:** Hell in a Handbasket

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"YOU!" Aunt Petunia shrieked as soon as she realized who it was. Obsidian eyes, sallow skin, a hooked nose, shoulder-length midnight hair...it all added up to one Severus Snape.

Snape raised an eyebrow at her. "You were always one for drama, Tuney," he said sardonically, looking around and ignoring the look of outrage on Petunia's horse-like face. The house was filled to the brim with pictures of a rather—ah—fat young man, and he frowned when he saw no pictures of Potter. Everything was meticulously tidy; every single thing here, down to the last blade of grass, could be considered straightened, dusted, polished, cleaned, and trimmed to perfection.

He found it less than homey.

"Potter," the Potions Master said sharply, "where did you get that bruise?" Snape suddenly smirked and said, before Harry could even open his mouth to reply, "Somebody wasn't treating you like a king, I'm assuming, and you got in a fight with them? The Golden Boy, of course, would expect nothing less than to be treated like royalty.

Uncle Vernon looked incredibly gleeful, and Snape, being a spy, didn't fail to notice that, but pushed the thought out of his mind. Vernon felt as if all his wildest dreams had come true. The boy was being taken off his hands for good, it seemed, _and_ the person taking him seemed to hate the ungrateful freak. Seething inwardly, Harry shook his head, and pushed the thought that Snape somehow knew Aunt Petunia out of his mind. "No...sir. I was reading on my back and dropped the book on my face," he muttered. **(I've done that before. OW!)** Severus snorted with contempt. Only a Potter would be stupid enough to do something like that.

"Get your things, Potter," he ordered. "We're leaving for Hogwarts immediately."

Harry nodded, dread swirling around inside of him like a hurricane as he grabbed the handle of his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage. She was out hunting, he remembered; she would be able to find him wherever he was. Hedwig was smart like that. "I'm ready, sir," he said.

Severus began to walk out the door, and then he paused. "As much as I would hate to listen to the simpering goodbyes that I'm sure will take place," he growled, "the Headmaster has told me to make sure they take place at all."

Say goodbye? To the Dursleys? _No, thanks,_ Harry thought with a barely concealed smirk, one that made Uncle Vernon's face turn an admirable shade of puce.

"Well?" Snape snapped, looking impatient. His glare wasn't too far behind, Harry noticed with a slight feeling of satisfaction. "I have things to do, boy. Hurry it up."

"Er...g'bye, then, I guess," Harry said awkwardly. Uncle Vernon's fat lips twitched upward in disgust, and Aunt Petunia looked away impassively. Dudley shrugged a bit and, to Harry's surprise, almost smiled as he waved with equal awkwardness.

"Bye, Harry," he mumbled. Much to Harry's combined amusement and horror (had he been talking in his sleep again?), he smirked and said, "Say hello to your boyfriend, Cedric or whatever his name was, for me," and then lumbered off to go watch TV. **(This takes place in the summer after GoF, remember? Dudley taunts Harry about his sleep talking in OotP.)**

Snape scoffed audibly. Ignoring Harry's curious look, he thought, _I expected hugs, kisses, and tears. Not silence and a single goodbye from a fat child who implied that Potter is gay._ Shaking off a slight sense of wrongness that was wiggling its way into his mind, as well as the mental reminder that Dumbledore _did_ suspect abuse, he turned around and headed out the door. He heard it close as he strode down the driveway of Number Four, and nodded slightly. The boy was following—good. "Try to keep up, won't you, Potter?" he threw over his shoulder between gritted teeth.

"I would if you slowed down a bit," Harry retorted between pants. His trunk was dragging on the ground. _He's probably never carried that thing before,_ Severus thought spitefully. _Golden Boy Potter has his luggage carried for him, of course..._

_ Dumbledore said he was abused. Look at him...you can see bruises on his arms and on coming out of the collar of his shirt. Look how thin he's gotten,_ whispered a voice in the back of his head. _He has dark circles under his eyes, and you can see his rib cage through those rags he's wearing._

_ Shut up,_ he told the voice.

"Keep up!" he growled at Harry, who was slowing once more. "I refuse to carry your trunk."

Harry mumbled something under his breath.

"Speak up," Snape ordered him. "I'm not a fan that you whisper lovingly to. I'm a teacher."

Gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to turn right around and go back to the Dursleys, a decision he thought he would never make in all of his fifteen years, Harry glared up at the man. "I said, I wouldn't want your greasy hands all over my trunk anyway," he spat, and then stormed by the git. Snape stalked over to him, pinning the suddenly tense teen with a look that told him, quite clearly, that disrespect would be met with very harsh punishments. _Snape wouldn't beat me...would he?_ Harry thought, very frightened by now. "I—I'm sorry," he stammered. "Sorry. I won't do it again. Sorry. I really am—"

"Stop with the goddamn apologies!" Severus snarled, and grabbed him roughly by the upper arm. He failed to notice, or more likely forced himself not to notice, the horrible flinch Harry gave him at the abrupt contact. "We're going to use side-along Apparation now," he said, dreading the next few moments, "and you'll need to be in bodily contact with me."

"I—what?" Potter looked horrified.

"Trust me, I'm not looking forward to it either," he said snidely. Before Harry could flinch away, he reluctantly put an arm around the boy's shoulders and drew him close. Ugh...Potter Spawn... "Try not to throw up on me, if you will," he said coldly before twisting on the spot with an audible _pop_.

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Harry's knees slammed onto the ground, and he sat back on all fours while willing himself not to throw up. Snape's polished black shoes backed up a little bit, and he gagged before swallowing back the thin bile that filled his mouth and getting shakily to his feet. "Come along, Potter," Severus told him, and stalked through the gates of Hogwarts. Harry followed, still trembling a bit from his first time Apparating, and had to jog to keep up with the Potions Master's long strides. During the long walk up to the school, he entertained himself by wondering how Snape managed to get his robes to billow like that. _Wonder if he has an Animagus form?_ he thought with a smile. _He's probably a great, greasy bat of some sort._

He laughed softly, and Severus cast him an aggravated look. "Is something funny?" he growled. Was the child laughing at him?

They finally stopped at the Gargoyles that stood guard at the headmaster's office, and Snape said flatly, "Jelly babies," so that they could enter. Within a few minutes, they were at the door at the top of the spiraling staircase, and Snape knocked.

"Enter," Dumbledore's voice called out, and Severus went inside with Harry following quietly behind him. "Good morning, Harry," the old wizard said, eyes twinkling happily. "How has your summer been?"

"It's been pretty good," Harry replied, shifting uncomfortably.

Dumbledore's smile faded a bit when he saw the bruises on the child's arms, and sighed. "Severus, my boy," he said next, facing the scowling man, "sit down, won't you? You too, child," he told Harry.

The two sat down, both scooting as far away as possible from each other with stiff posture. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at the sight, and Severus folded his arms across his chest in annoyance when he noticed this. "You look awfully thin, Harry," Dumbledore commented suddenly. "Did you get in a fight? You seem to have bruises on your arms..."

"A Muggle fight," Harry said, nodding quickly. Well, that was a better excuse than 'I fell down the stairs.'

"And the bruise on your face?"

He swallowed. "I was reading, and dropped the book. The corner hit me when it fell. I'm fine, sir," he finished, hoping that the old man would stop asking questions. He was perfectly fine. A few weeks here at Hogwarts, and he would even be able to regain all the weight he'd lost during June and most of July. Until then, he would simply have to make sure he wore extra clothing to make it look like he wasn't as thin as it seemed right now.

Dumbledore scrutinized him with piercing blue eyes, trying to make the boy tell the truth. For years, Minerva and Dobby the house elf had been telling him about the things that the Dursleys had done to Harry, and he hadn't wanted to believe it until now. "Harry," he said soothingly, "it's all right if you tell the truth. Why, Severus himself didn't have the idol fathe—"

Snape jerked into a straighter sitting position. "Albus," he hissed furiously, glaring at the old man, "that was uncalled for."

Harry looked up at him with a curious expression on his face, wondering if Dumbledore was telling the truth. Had Snape's dad hit or starved him? Dumbledore's eyes flicked over to him, and he gave the most barely perceptible nod. Harry blinked a few times, and frowned. "I did tell the truth, sir," he said after a moment, intent on sticking with the Muggle fight story. Dumbledore studied him once more, and then sighed. "Really," Harry insisted, and added quickly, "sir."

"All right, Harry," he said sadly, and turned to Snape. "Severus, thank you for bringing him; I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well, Harry."

"Thank you, sir," the boy said, getting to his feet and trying not to smile as he thought about having Gryffindor Tower all to himself. This was going to be great, he grinned as he and Snape walked out of Dumbledore's office and to the right. He could finish his homework, which the Dursleys hadn't let him do, he could stay up as long as he liked and could fly on his Firebolt, he could... "Um...Professor?" he said, confused. "This isn't the way to my common room..."

Stifling a snort, Snape turned to him. "Of course not, boy," he said with a smirk, though inwardly he was dreading the next few weeks. "Upon Dumbledore's orders, you're to be staying in my quarters with me."

"I have to...you're...This cannot be happening to me," Harry blurted out.

"It's no picnic for me, either," Severus muttered, stalking down the corridor and trusting that the insolent brat would follow. Deeper and deeper he led the boy into the dungeons, down chilly corridors and past musty, unused rooms; the passages twisted and turned, and finally they stopped at a picture of a man with a snake. "Emerald lilies," he said firmly, and Harry frowned at the choice of password. Unbidden, Snape's earlier words came into his mind. _"You were always one for drama, Tuney."_

Not even Uncle Vernon was allowed to call Aunt Petunia "Tuney," and the man was her husband. Had Snape, the greasy git of the dungeons, known his mother and aunt...?

He was jolted out of his thoughts when Severus sighed and demanded, "What are you waiting for? An invitation to come inside?" Without letting Harry reply, he turned around and walked to the center of his living room. At first, he'd expected to see completely black furniture—however, he saw, looking around curiously, there was hardly any black in the room at all. The main color scheme was made up of dark browns, greens, and dark blues. Although Harry would never say it aloud, the man knew how to decorate. "Kitchen," the Potions Master said, pointing to the open and clean area. "Bathroom. My bedroom—I don't ever want to catch you inside there. Over there," he announced, "is your bedroom. I expect you to keep it tidy; that includes making your bed."

Harry nodded. He'd expected as much. "What are my chores, sir?" he asked, figuring that he'd have a gigantic list of them like he always did at the Dursleys'.

Snape gave him a strange look. "Keep your room clean, and cook breakfast about once every week or so. The house elves can do the rest. Do your homework while you're at it. I doubt you've done it yet."

"You wouldn't have done your homework either if they threatened to kill your owl," Harry muttered under his breath. As he began lugging his trunk to his bedroom for the rest of the summer, Snape grabbed his upper arm to stop him, saying silkily, "What was that?"

He gritted his teeth. "I said," he repeated loudly, "you wouldn't have done your homework either if they'd threatened to kill your owl."

"And who is 'they,' Potter?"

"My un—my cousin and his friends," he said, changing the story mid-word. "They have a gang of sorts...They're all stupid gits, too."

Snape quirked an eyebrow. "When you said goodbye, your cousin didn't seem to be a 'stupid git,' as you put it. Other than the fact that he implied that you have a different sexual orientation than most of the wizarding world expects, he seemed perfectly friendly, if not fat and awkward."

With a snort, Harry shook his head. "He's been on a diet for about a year now," he said when Severus frowned questioningly. He'd let him go, and Harry blinked in surprise when he realized that they were actually having a civil conversation. _Maybe this won't be so bad..._ "You should have seen him before he began to do boxing. He was gigantic."

"Larger than he is now?"

"Much. He took up an entire side of the kitchen table by himself."

He couldn't help it; Severus shuddered. Suddenly, a memory of what he'd been thinking about last night in Dumbledore's office—a fat Albus. Gazing down at Potter, he squinted slightly and tried to imagine thick lips, chubby cheeks, a double chin, and a flabby, ruddy face overall. He had to stop himself from bursting into laughter right there and then, causing a coughing sound to emit from his throat. Harry tilted his head curiously, wondering why Snape looked as if he was trying hard not to laugh. "Is something wrong, sir?"

Clearing his throat, he shook his head and strode toward his closed bedroom door. Halfway into the room, he paused and glanced back at Harry with his usual sneer in place. It faltered for a moment, and he asked, "Even dunderheads have imagination, am I right?"

"I—er—yes, I reckon so," the boy replied, startled at the sudden question.

"Then..." He turned around a bit more. "What do you imagine a fat Dumbledore would look like?"

**(That's going to be haunting my dreams for weeks...)**

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Once Harry was finally able to stop choking on his laughter, which he refused to let the greasy git hear, he dragged his trunk to his bedroom for the summer and looked around. Although he would never admit it, Snape's private rooms were very nice. In his room, he had a twin bed that looked very soft, a wardrobe, a desk, a nightstand, and an enchanted window that would show any landscape and season he wished. The colors were much like the ones in the living room, but with crimson instead of green. For that, he was thankful.

Sitting down at the desk, he leaned back and stretched before holding his stomach as it growled ferociously. He hadn't eaten in a day and a half now...He often wasn't allowed to, at Privet Drive. Looking around, he chewed his bottom lip and then called out softly, "Dobby?"

He jumped as there was a loud _crack_, and glanced around nervously. "Harry Potter, sir!" came Dobby's cheerful voice. "You is at Hogwarts!"

"Yeah," he replied, swallowing and keeping an eye on the door. "Um, Dobby? Could you bring me a sandwich or some soup? And some tea. Please?"

Dobby beamed up at him. "Of course, Harry Potter, sir!" With another _crack_, he vanished. Harry waited quietly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and staring worriedly at the door. He was sure Snape would be angry if he asked one of the house elves for food without getting permission first. _I bet he would give me a detention_, Harry thought sourly, and jumped when Dobby reappeared with some soup, half of a ham and cheese sandwich, and tea. "Here you is, sir!"

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry smiled, and said, "Why don't you sit down? I have nobody to talk to," before taking a large bite of his sandwich. Washing it down with the tea, he listened as Dobby began to prattle on happily about how life as a free elf was. Paying close attention, he made a few comments and asked questions, grinning as the house elf bounced up and down on his heels excitedly. "That's great!" he said when Dobby told him about all the new socks he had.

"They is making many mistakes with them, sir," the elf whispered to him suddenly, looking around wildly as if frightened the sock makers would hear.

"Are they?" he whispered back.

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir! They is giving me two of the same kind," Dobby squeaked.

Harry frowned and shook his head, outwardly scandalized, inwardly laughing in amusement at the elf's antics. "Well, then, I should just give you a few of mine then, so you can mix them up as much as you want," he said. Dobby beamed at him, eyes watering joyously, as he knelt by his trunk and pulled out two pairs of socks. "Here, you go. Four new socks to mix up!" he said, handing them over. Dobby thanked him profusely, and then looked up at Harry's finished meal.

"Dobby must go now, Harry Potter, sir," he said, taking the empty dishes and saying goodbye before disappearing once more.

Stretching, Harry rubbed his eyes before yawning and looking around. Although it was only around one in the afternoon, he was very tired. _It's my birthday,_ he suddenly remembered, just as somebody spoke from in the doorway. "You are very polite to the elves."

Whirling around in the desk chair, he looked at Snape with wide eyes. For a moment he only stared, and then swallowed hard as he nodded and said, "Dobby is my friend."

An odd light came on in Snape's eyes. Curiosity, perhaps? "That was Dobby? The elf you freed in your second year?" he inquired.

"Yeah." Standing up, he cringed a bit as Severus—in his mind—glared down at him. "I'm sorry I ate without permission," he mumbled. "When do I serve my detention?"

"Detention?"

Harry looked up, worrying his bottom lip again. "Er—I ate without permission. Aren't you going to punish me for it?"

"Your relatives punished you for eating?" Snape narrowed his eyes at the boy. Yes, he was a bastard, but he wasn't going to give the Potter spawn a detention just for eating lunch when he was obviously very hungry. Harry opened his mouth, paused, and then closed it again before shaking his head. "Don't. Lie. To. Me."

"Only when they had to," Harry said evasively. "Like when I cooked, and made a mess in the kitchen. I'm always a bit messy when I cook, and so I'd get in trouble for it. They only grounded me when I spilled something that was just barely opened or that we needed very badly, and didn't have a lot of. They sent me to bed without dinner when I got in a Muggle fight—like I did a few days ago. That's why I was kind of hungry."

"Did you eat breakfast today?"

"I—yes," he said quickly.

"I think you're lying."

Harry looked away, avoiding the older man's eyes. "I'm not lying," he said calmly, though he was a seething mass of terror and insecurities on the inside. _Embrace your inner Slytherin!_ he screamed at himself, and took a deep breath as he got ready to further manipulate his teacher and summer guardian. "Well, yes, I am lying," he admitted, bowing his head as if ashamed. "I'd just barely woken up and gotten packed when you came. I was really hungry."

Severus studied him for a moment. Was Potter lying? he wondered. If so, he was an unexpectedly good liar. _Interesting._ Turning around and leaving without another word, he closed the boy's bedroom door and then went to his bookcase to pick out a book.

Inside his bedroom, Harry exhaled and grinned. It had worked! Mentally congratulating himself and feeling extremely relieved, he backed up until he felt a mattress against the back of his legs. He fell back slowly, toeing off his trainers and laying down with a nice nap in mind. Laying his head down onto the pillow, he frowned in confusion when he felt something paper-like against the back of his head. Sitting up, he felt around the pillow and then reached into the pillow case to pull out a letter.

A letter with his name on it.


	4. Get Down to Brass Tacks

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** I can't even afford to buy food. Buying the rights to Harry Potter is a little out of my league.

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**A/N:** Right. So before, I was not planning on turning this into a slash story. However...I recently read a Harry/Draco slash. I fell in love. ^^ So now you're gonna just have to either deal with it, or stop reading. You decide.

I also wrote this nice little layout for N.M.I., and it'll be fifty-some chapters long (about fifty six chappies, and an epilogue)...I'm looking forward to writing some of the later chapters =D!

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**Chapter Four:** Get Down to Brass Tacks (deal with hard facts)

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For about half a minute, Harry simply stared at the letter. Where did he recognize that handwriting from? It was in green...A Slytherin, perhaps? Should he check to see if it had any magical properties? _No,_ he told himself, interrupting his own train of thought. _It looks too old to be from a Slytherin that I know, and I don't think it's from Voldemort._

He could just imagine that. _Dear Harry, I'm very sorry that I've been trying so hard to kill you lately. I would like to make it up to you and turn myself in. Friends? —Voldemort._

Yeah, right. That was as likely as becoming Draco Malfoy's best friend. Grinning at the thought, he eased the letter open and pulled out the parchment inside. Scanning the front of it, he nearly dropped the parchment in surprise.

It was from his mum.

Eagerly now, he began to read.

_To my dear son,_

_ This letter has been passed down through certain house elves since I wrote it, and on your birthday a certain house elf named Dobby will leave this on your pillow for you to read. If I were still alive, though sadly I am not, for you are now reading this, Dobby would bring it back to me._

_ Before I go on to tell you why I wrote this letter to you, let me tell you that I love you very much, and that James says hello._

Harry smiled at the smiley face with shaggy hair next to that. _My father drew that,_ he thought gleefully.

_You may have wondered why I called him James, and not your father. The truth is, Harry...James is not your biological father at all. Yes, James does know this. He has since you were born, and realized your true identity almost immediately. He has forgiven me, and I hope that you will too someday._

At this, Harry stared blankly at the letter. His dad...wasn't his dad at all. _Who is my father?_ he wondered, horrified. He let the parchment drift to the floor, and buried his face in his hands. _Oh, my God...Oh, God...My mum cheated on my—_He could no longer call James his dad. It would just make him feel sick. As it was, he felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. Shakily, he picked the letter up again and continued to read.

_I don't know if your father is alive, to be honest...He became a Death Eater after school, but was a spy for Dumbledore by the time I was dead. I hope, for both your sake and his, that Severus is alive._

Death Eater...spy for Dumbledore...Severus..._WHAT? _Harry nearly screamed the word as he stared at the letter.

_Your father's name is Severus Snape._

Unable to read anymore of the letter, Harry crumpled it up and hurled it, as hard as he could, across the room. He curled up on the floor, trembling violently. No...no...the letter had to be a joke! Before he could stop himself, he shrieked, subconsciously hoping that the greasy git would hear him, "YOU SLEPT WITH MY MUM?"

For a moment nothing happened, and then his door opened. "What the hell are you shouting about?" Snape demanded angrily, glaring down at the small form huddled up on the floor. "Why are you on the floor?"

_I bet even the sex was greasy._

It was this thought that made Harry stutter out a somewhat shrill reply, praying to God that Snape wouldn't question him further. "I, uh...Nothing! Sorry I yelled, Ron just sent me a letter that um, had a really weird joke in it that I took seriously for a moment."

Severus glared at him, openly skeptical. After all, there were no windows in the dungeons that the owl could have come in from. Finally, after Harry managed not to look away and he realized that the boy wasn't going to any time soon, the Potions Master whirled around and left the room with a slam of the door, muttering about how bratty and annoying his new charge was. As soon as he was gone, Harry exhaled in relief. "Thank Merlin," he whispered to himself, crawling over to the letter in the corner of the room and smoothing it out again. He continued to read, swallowing hard. As soon as he was finished, he dropped the letter again and lay on his bed with a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

They'd been drunk. Snape and his mom had been drunk, had sex, and in July she'd had him. She'd asked "Sev," as she called him a few times, for the Parental Potion, Obliviating him immediately afterward to make sure he never knew.

_Please, if he's approachable and still a spy, tell him. Let him read the letter._

As if! Yeah, he could just imagine that conversation... "Er—sir? I got a letter from my mom, saying that you got drunk and slept with her. I guess I'm your son. Professor? Are you okay? Why did you pass out?"

He wouldn't tell anyone, Harry decided firmly as he got up and crept to the door. Opening it silently, he sidled into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Hopping up onto the sink, he peered at his reflection in the mirror. _Still the same,_ he thought. However...was it just him, or was his nose a bit longer? Did his eyebrows look thinner? A bit...arched?

His mother had told him how the potion didn't last forever; his true form would be slowly reappearing. _It will start with either your height or your hair, or even your eyesight,_ she'd written. _It __always does._

Carefully, he patted his hair down and—to his horror—it stayed flat for far too long before springing back up. "Oh, shit," he murmured, vivid green eyes wide as he stared at himself. It was true, then. He really was the son of the Greasy Git. What was he going to do?

"I'm fifteen," he told himself softly. "I'm"—Here he smiled—"a big kid now. I'll think of something...anything."

Glamor charms. Polyjuice—no, he'd need part of his dad's body, and then he'd look different without his green eyes...There seemed to be nothing else he could do except for a Glamor.

Suddenly, he wondered how tall he was going to get. _Snape looks about six feet and an inch or two,_ Harry thought, poking his nose and wondering if it was going to become big and hooked. _I bet I'll be a lot taller, soon...I should eat more._

That was one of the only things he had to look forward too: he was going to be tall.

Hopping back down from the sink, he tried to see if he had grown any. _Darn,_ he thought when he saw that he was still as short and scrawny as ever. Sighing, he paused on his way out the door and frowned. Something didn't seem right. After a moment, he realized he was getting a headache because of his glasses. _Uh, oh._

Taking them off, he cleaned them on his shirt and then put them back on. Noo...Everything was a bit more blurry than it usually was! "Damn it all..."

"Watch your mouth," Snape snapped. He was reading the Daily Prophet. Harry jumped in surprise, and then went over to him warily, from where he was sitting on his couch.

"I think I need new glasses," he said quietly, sitting on the other side of said couch. "Is there anyway to fix the lenses?"

"Did they break?" The man didn't even look up from the article he was reading.

"No. It's just getting a bit hard to see out of them."

Taking out his wand, Severus tore his attention away from the paper to point the wand at each of Harry's eyes, and then he sighed before tapping the glasses. "Put them on. They'll fix themselves in a moment, if I've done it correctly. If not, go see Poppy."

"Poppy?"

"Madam Pomfrey."

"Oh." Harry put his glasses back on, squinting as the lenses began to slowly change. After a moment, he sighed in relief. "They work. Thanks, Professor."

"Mmm..." Snape went back to reading the paper, and Harry got up to go back to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him, and collapsed onto his bed in relief. He didn't ask. _I hope I have the same amount of luck forever, or at least until I'm out of school. I'll have to hide the letter, though._

At this thought, Harry hurried over to the parchment on the floor and shoved it back into its envelope before opening his trunk and looking down at his clothes. _I should unpack...I could hide the letter in some of my jeans. I don't think Snape would really want to go through my clothes,_ he reasoned, and began to do just that. As soon as all the clothes he owned were unpacked and put away in the wardrobe, he scouted through all his jeans before picking the one with the deepest, largest pockets, and hid the letter in one of them. _Now I just need to make sure the letter doesn't go through the wash on accident._

With his in mind, Harry grinned and lay back on his bed, closing his eyes and getting ready for a nice rest.

**Sorry the chapter is so short. I just kinda ran out of inspiration for this one. Blah. But hey, I'm updating pretty quickly, so DEAL WITH IT xD!**

**REVIEW, PLEASE!**


	5. Turn a Blind Eye

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** Lawsuits suck. 'Nuff said.

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**A/N: **I really need a beta...The only problem is, I have literally no idea how to get one xD! Anyone wanna help me here?  
>Oh, and...every chapter name is actually a saying, except for the first two. Every other chapter name is going to be a saying; I'll give the meanings of them all, because some of them are a bit difficult.<p>

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**Chapter Five:** Turn a Blind Eye (refuse to acknowledge something)

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As soon as Potter's bedroom door closed again, Snape leaned back against the couch cushions and sighed in aggravation as he set down his newspaper. That boy was so _annoying_! How the hell did his glasses become suddenly unfit for his eyes, when he'd been doing fine with them five minutes before? And why, _why_, did he spend almost half an hour in the bathroom when he didn't even use the toilet, sink, or shower? _He was probably admiring himself in the mirror,_ Severus thought with a contemptuous snort. There was his proof that the Potter Spawn was vain. He spent thirty minutes staring at himself in a mirror.

Upon realizing he was hungry, he called for one of the kitchen elves and ordered some lunch. Less than five minutes later he was munching slowly on a sandwich, wondering why Potter hadn't thrown a tantrum yet. _Well, if you don't count screaming "You slept with my mum?" a tantrum..._

What was all _that_ about, anyway? The owl excuse was completely unfounded, unless the boy had received the letter while at his relatives' house and hadn't opened it until now. But why would Potter lie about something like that?

_Scratch. Scratch. Scratch._

_ What the hell?_ Severus thought, setting down in sandwich and getting up. He crossed the room with lengthy strides, and opened Potter's bedroom door. What he saw made him very angry. "Are you writing on the walls, boy?" he snarled. Potter jumped and turned around so fast he stumbled and fell flat on his bottom. Severus had to suppress a snort at this, and instead folded his arms across his chest and said flatly, "I'm waiting."

"I was measuring myself," Potter said, swallowing hard.

Severus growled softly in annoyance, and stalked over to the line Potter had made to show his height. "Why does it say 'Day One' here?" he demanded.

"Er—Day one away from the Dursleys," Harry invented wildly, while inwardly he was thinking, _Day one of the changes._ "Now that I can eat more, I'll probably grow a lot."

Snape fixed him with a glare, and then left the room again after snapping, "Don't write on my walls." Sitting back down on his couch, he picked his sandwich back up and fumed. How dare the boy make up stories about how he was supposedly starved at his relatives' house. _They obviously served him everything he wanted on a silver platter. Arrogant, lazy, disgraceful, disrespectful...He's just like his father!_

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Harry breathed a sigh of relief and finished marking his height, this time as quietly as possible, with the pencil he had found at the bottom of his trunk. Ugh, he was such an idiot! He'd nearly spilled the beans about how the Dursleys refused to feed him more than half of the time.

_I'll have to be more careful for the rest of the year, or at least until people find out I'm Snape's son and get over it,_ he told himself, and pulled out his homework. _Might as well start with the Greasy Git himself._

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The next few days in Snape's company was a nightmare. He continued to be grumpy and sarcastic, glaring at Harry every time he was in sight. Eventually, Harry began to just stay in his room, even for meals; by the end of the first week in the Potions Master's company, marking his height on the walls, he'd grown half an inch. His eyesight continued to get better, with Snape grudgingly agreeing to fix them for him, and on the eleventh day he hardly needed them anymore.

"Where are your glasses, boy?" Snape demanded when Harry walked out of his bedroom on the thirteenth day without them.

"Don't need them anymore," Harry said absently, ignoring his guardian's annoyed tone and pulling on his holey sneakers. He had his school bag slung over his shoulder, with books on the Paternity Potions he'd gotten in the library the day before, as well as his wand and invisibility cloak. The Marauder's Map was coming along for the ride as well.

"Don't need..."

"Nope." Harry looked up at his guardian. "Eyesight fixed itself, for some reason."

"Don't. Lie."

Harry gritted his teeth. "I'm not lying. Here...Write something down and stand a few feet away. I'll try to read it without my glasses." He stood up, wobbling slightly as his new height announced its presence. He really had bad balance now! _So is Ron, when he grows a lot in a short space of time,_ Harry reminded himself with some relief. He needed his balance to play Seeker.

Snape stood as well, taking a book of one of the shelves on the wall, and stood back about a meter away. Harry squinted very slightly, and then read, "Advanced Potions Making."

Surprised, Severus looked sharply at him. "No Muggle contacts?"

Harry shook his head in the negative. "If I had any Muggle contacts, I would make them color contacts so nobody could recognize me."

Sneering at the boy, Snape said inwardly, _Just to cause trouble, if you'd ask me. Make people panic about where he is. Probably makes him feel important. Special._ However, even though he'd believe those thoughts in a heartbeat in the past, living with the Potter Spawn had brought out some interesting questions. Did the child really like his fame? And how did his relatives _really_ treat him? _They coddle him, I'm sure._

_ "But do they?"_ a small voice always answered, sounding just like Dumbledore.

Severus was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed Harry's next words. "I'm going to go on a walk around the lake. I might visit Hagrid."

"Hagrid is not here."

"Where—"

"That is none of your business," he growled, before Harry could finish the question. "Go, boy. Be back by sunset."

Harry nodded, and hurried out the door. Running through the dungeons, he exited the castle and walked down to the lake, humming to himself. Seeing a good place to sit in the shade, completely out of sight if one tried to look and see where he was, he sat down and then threw the invisibility cloak over his used-to-be-scrawny frame. Pulling out the first book he saw, he flipped to the part that had mentions of the Parental Potion and began to read.

_The Parental Potion: a non-lasting concoction used to make a newborn child appear as the man meant to be his or her biological father. Lasting only fifteen years, if the biological mother wishes to make the adoptive father's appearance in the child absolute, she—and only she, for nobody else can brew the potion for her child—must take blood of the father and—_

Harry slammed the book shut angrily. Great; his mother was dead, and thus he couldn't be reverted back to his former appearance, where he had looked like James. _When did I start calling him James?_

At least he hadn't begun to call Snape his dad.

Opening up the second book, he settled back once more to read.

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Five hours later, Harry shot up into a sitting position with a gasp as he realized he'd fallen asleep. It had become dark hours ago, he saw with a large amount of panic as he shoved the library books back into his bag and pulled off the invisibility cloak.

He was sprinting back up to the castle when he rammed into a dark shape that had appeared in front of him too late for him to see, and he sprawled on the ground with a small yelp. Pulling out his wand and scrambling to his feet, he pivoted on his heel and saw—Snape?

"Where the hell have you been?" Snape demanded, grabbing him by the shoulders. Harry didn't reply, only blinked and stared at him in obvious confusion. _Oh, God...Does he even recognize me? Did they mess with his mind?_ "Harry? Answer me!"

Harry's shoulders slumped as he felt himself being lightly shaken and said numbly, "You called me Harry. Professor, what's wro—"

"Be quiet. We're going back up to the castle...Pick up your bag, boy!"

Scooping his fallen bag off the ground again, Harry hurried after Severus as they rushed into the castle. Albus Dumbledore stood at the entrance of the castle, looking both terrified and furious. As soon as he saw Severus pulling Harry along behind him, he took a deep breath and released it slowly. Thank Merlin the child was safe and unharmed... "Are you hurt?" he asked the boy, just to make sure.

"No." Harry looked startled. "Why are you all panicking?"

"You've been missing for more than five hours," Dumbledore said quietly as they went to his office. "We feared that you'd either run away, or the Death Eaters had somehow kidnapped you. Where were you?"

Harry frowned. "I was by the lake, reading."

"I checked the lake," Snape snarled.

"I was under my invisibility cloak," Harry admitted, humiliated. Dumbledore gestured him to sit down as he lowered himself in his usual seat, and Harry sat quickly. Snape sat in the chair beside him. "I wanted some privacy, so I took the cloak along."

Snape plucked one of the books out of Harry's bag, ignoring the indignant "HEY!" from the boy. Frowning at the title that most certainly had to do with Potions, he flipped to where the Potter Spawn had placed a bookmark and scanned the page. "Why," he said testily, slamming the book open-faced onto Dumbledore's desk, so they could all read the words on it, "were you reading up on Paternity Potions?"

Freezing in place, Harry glanced over at Dumbledore, who's brow was furrowed as if he was deep in thought. _Please don't figure it out...Please don't..._

Unaware that Harry's desperate prayers were being duly ignored, Dumbledore glanced from Harry to Snape, and his eyes widened slightly as he realized why Harry's height, face, and hair were slowly changing. Then he saw the horrified look on Harry's face, and the barely-there shake of the head as the boy mentally pleaded with him not to say anything. He smiled faintly and nodded to the boy, before turning back to Severus. "Perhaps, Severus, he's simply reading up on Potions so that he may be prepared for your class during the school year. Your relatives locked your belongings up, didn't they, Harry? You were unable to study."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed, before realizing what he'd just said. "Er—no, sir."

"No?"

"No," he repeated firmly. Snape smirked; the boy had been trying to get attention again, by pretending that he was horribly abused by his relatives...

_"It was an honest slip of the tongue,"_ his conscious pointed out.

_Shut up._

_"He may have actually been abused. The bruises are still there, but just barely...Where could they have come from, hmm?"_

_ A Muggle fight, Potter said._

_ "So he said."_

Snape shook his head a bit, trying to make the voice go away as he scowled at Harry. The boy merely stared back, as calm as can be. The glare intensified, and this time Harry looked away as he continued to listen to Dumbledore. The old man was still trying to get him to admit that he'd been abused by the Dursleys. "Professor," he finally said, a bit more sharply than he'd intended, "I wasn't abused!"

"Harry," Dumbledore sighed, "why do you insist on protecting them?"

"Because I..." Harry paused, and frowned. "I don't protect them. There's nothing to protect them from," he persisted.

Albus sighed and a sad look appeared in his eyes. "All right, Harry. It's late; I believe it's time for you to go to bed."

Harry slid off the chair and put the Potions book back into his bag, glanced at Snape and then Dumbledore, and then practically ran out of the office.

"Poor boy," Severus heard Albus say.

_Why does he keep going on with the act? We all know he was perfectly fine at his relatives' house..._

_"You call being starved and beaten perfectly fine?"_ his conscious demanded.

_Shut up._


	6. Come on Trumps

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** If I was anybody famous, I would be the Little Mermaid, because of my red hair. Not J.K. Rowling.

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**A/N: **Wow, there's a lot of page breaks in this one...Oh, well haha. Draco will enter the scene in chapter eight, just to let you know.

YAY! I got a beta! _^^  
><em>Oh, and by the way...This one has the F word in it. Deal with it or stopping reading it. ;)

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**Chapter Six:** Come on Trumps (to complete something successfully, in circumstances that make it unexpected)

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Harry sprinted out of Dumbledore's office, so fast he nearly missed seeing a short, fat woman in pink waddle past. Slowing to a trot, he gazed curiously down at her, and she glared up at him. She looked, Harry thought, like a toad, with protruding eyes and a flabby face. _Ew._ "Er—sorry," he muttered, and was walking off again when she spoke in a simpering, girlish voice.

"I hadn't known that students are allowed to stay at the castle over the summer."

Frowning, Harry turned around again and shook his head as he wildly invented a story, knowing that he didn't look completely like Harry Potter anymore, especially not with this height and his flattening hair covering his scar completely, and one of his eyes. "Oh, um..." He forced his voice a bit deeper, and found that it had begun to change a bit. "I'm not. My father asked Professor Dumbledore if I could come and get a few books from the library. I have to keep up with my school work, you know."

The toad lady nodded, a nasty-looking grin on her face. "And what house are you in, young man?"

"Slytherin, of course," he replied haughtily, saying the first house that came to mind.

Again, the lady nodded. "A noble house, that," she simpered. "And who might your parents be? Both wizards?"

"I'm a half-blood, and my mother is dead," he said, a bit coldly. _Well, it's true,_ he thought, and sniggered inwardly at the thought of being able to manipulate people. Did he get it from Snape? _I wonder why she's here, anyway?_

"Oh, I'm sorry." She didn't sound sorry at all. Without another word to him, she waddled back in the direction of Dumbledore's office. Harry watched her go, and as soon as she was out of sight he began to jog back down to the dungeons, and Snape's private quarters. As soon as he was there, he whispered the password and closed the door behind him. Turning around quickly, he nearly ran into Severus.

"I see you met Umbridge," the Potions Master commented darkly, grabbing his upper arm carefully and pulling him to the kitchen.

"How did you—?"

"I was watching from the shadows. Sadistic bitch, isn't she? Though I do agree with her about Slytherin being a noble house...She may have been sucking up, however. She was a Hufflepuff, and I haven't seen many Hufflepuffs that go around calling Slytherins noble."

(**A/N: What the heck IS a 'Puff, anyway?)**

Harry couldn't help but smile. He hadn't expected Snape, a teacher, to insult a ministry official, if the badge on the toad woman's shirt was anything to go by. "She is," he agreed. "Is this Umbridge woman a ministry person?"

Severus smirked at him, though without malice for what seemed the first time ever. "A 'ministry person?' If I were you," he said with a contemptuous snort, "I wouldn't let anybody like Cornelius Fudge here you call them the 'ministry people.'" He spat the minister's name like it was poison. So suddenly that Harry started with surprise, he whirled around with a whip of his black cape and said, "You have successfully manipulated Dolores Umbridge—a difficult feat for a stubborn Gryffindor. I believe this calls for a drink."

"A drink?" Harry snorted. "Professor, I'm fifteen."

"And in my care," Snape pointed out. "I give you permission to have one—and just one—drink."

Looking around a bit nervously, as if expecting Dumbledore to burst out of nowhere and scold them both for even contemplating the consumption of alcohol, Harry slowly grinned and nodded. "Fire whiskey?"

"Definitely not."

"But you said—"

Snape flicked the side of his head. "I didn't say which drink, Potter."

"Damn," he sighed.

"Watch your tongue," Severus said absently, as he rifled through his cabinets and then pulled out a somewhat dusty bottle. Clearing the dust away with a tap of his wand, he pulled out two crystal tumblers and poured a reasonable amount of the amber liquid into each glass. "Honey mead. Drink it slowly, or it'll go straight to your head."

Harry studied the amber color. "I've never heard of honey mead before," he remarked before taking a sip. The mead was crisp and cloyingly sweet, with just a little bit of bite. "It's good!" he exclaimed, and took another sip. "How do you know it'll go straight to your head?"

"The Weasley twins."

"Oh. That makes sense."

Snape smirked at him, taking a sip of his own mead and absently tapping the side of his tumbler as he sat down at his kitchen table. "Why, exactly, were you reading books on the Paternity Potion, Potter?"

"It's Harry," the boy replied, trying to take his father's mind off the topic.

"Hmm?"

"It's Harry," Harry repeated. "Not Potter. You called me Harry before, and I like it better than being called by my surname."

The Potions Master glared at him for a moment, and then took another sip of his drink before saying coolly, "Harry it is, then. Why then, _Harry_, were you looking up the Paternity Potion?"

Quickly, Harry thought up a cover story. "Hermione wanted to know what it was at the end of last year, and so I decided to look it up so I could tell her in an owl, as soon as Hedwig gets back." Before Snape could ask another question, Harry continued: "Hedwig is my owl."

He nodded, and drained the last of his mead before pouring himself another glass, this one with considerably less than last time. "That was a decent lie," he said mildly, sipping his second tumbler. Harry winced and avoided his eyes. "I'll accept the lie for now, but at the time you least expect it, I'll ask again..."

"I'll be ready," Harry retorted cheerfully, and finished his drink. He was exhausted, he realized as he stood up and swayed slightly. "Goodnight, Professor Snape," he said after washing his tumbler and placing it back in the cabinet from which Severus had taken it out. Severus nodded his goodnight, pensively swirling the contents of his glass around in his own tumbler and appearing to be very deep in thought. Quietly leaving the room, Harry closed his bedroom door and pulled off his jeans before falling into bed and closing his eyes. He was instantly asleep.

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"Almost two inches," Snape commented as he marked Harry's new height on the wall behind the door. "If I wasn't seeing you grow right before my eyes, I would declare the rate that you're growing impossible."

Harry snorted. "You're not the one growing," he said. "I feel really wobbly."

After Harry had successfully manipulated Umbridge into believing all of his lies, Severus had taken to measuring Harry's height on the wall with him. _He's kinda acting like my dad,_ Harry thought as he stood up against the wall, trying not to bounce up and down on his heels and receive a rap on the head with the pencil he'd found in the bottom of his trunk. "You make me mark your height incorrectly when you do that," he'd snapped the time he'd done that.

"You'll feel wobbly for quite some time," Severus told him absently as he set down the pencil and tugged lightly on his hair. It was greasy again. "When I was your age, I went through multiple growth spurts and was unbalanced for a week or two." Watching Harry write down _Day Eighteen_ next to the line marking his height, he announced, "It's breakfast time. Come and eat."

Without another word, he turned around and walked out of the room to the kitchen.

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"I'm bored."

Severus looked up from his breakfast, scowling. Harry sat across from him, having just finished his own food. Ever since he had called the boy 'Harry,' he'd begun to eat meals with him. "You've said that twenty-three times now, and counting. Go entertain yourself. I have potions to brew today, and I cannot be bothered."

"What potions are you going to make?" Harry prodded, curious. He drained the last of his milk and resisted the urge to pull his legs up on the chair. He'd done that yesterday, and Snape had whacked him over the head with the Daily Prophet. And anyway, he'd grown too much for that to be comfortable anymore. It was the sixteenth day, August fifteenth, and so far he was getting close to two inches taller. When Snape didn't answer him, he persisted: "Can I help you?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Absolutely not."

This went on for about five minutes, and by the time Harry finally gave up, Snape was thinking, _Just to get him to shut up, I should let him practice fifth-year potions._

"Pleeeeeease?"

"No."

Harry sighed and stood up. "Fine."

"But you can practice potions that you'll be making in your fifth year class."

"Really?" Harry grinned at him, and Severus grimaced; he was just giving himself a death sentence here, but the boy had looked at him with the exact same look Lily had always given him when pleading for something. "Thanks! Should I bring anything with me? One of my old Potions book?"

Swallowing his last piece of sausage and standing up, Severus shook his head. "No. I believe you'll be fine with my own Potions books."

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"Stir that cauldron counterclockwise," Snape ordered, gesturing vaguely to the cauldron to the right of the one he stood in front of. For the past ten minutes or so, the two of them had been preparing ingredients, and Severus had been surprised when Harry hadn't spoken at all while doing so, and was quick and efficient.

"What is it?" Harry asked, peering at the contents while he stirred.

Snape glanced at the cauldron as well and then said, "It's a Heritage Draught. You'll be making it in your fifth year, and it'll be good to have some practice. Turn to page fifty-five in the book there; it has instructions."

"A—a heritage...?"

"Is there a problem with the curriculum, Mr. Potter?" Severus asked sarcastically as he added ground pixie wings to his own potion and stirred feverishly. Harry shook his head wordlessly and began to make the Heritage Draught, wondering what Snape would do when it announced that the man was his father. Then he smiled faintly.

_I have to tell him sooner or later. The least I can do is let a potion tell him for me, and pretend that I had absolutely no idea he's my..._ He was still unable to call the Greasy Git of the Dungeons his father.

Carefully, he began to brew the potion. Sometimes while he was doing so, Snape would yell things like, "Add the lacewing flies afterward, boy!" and "The finely ground ones, not the chunky ones!" As they both worked, Harry noticed that the potion fumes in the room were making Snape's hair rather greasy. _Is that why his hair is always like that?_ Harry wondered, and reached up to his own hair. It, too, was a bit greasy. _Crap! What if I have his greasy hair? _Finally, the only thing left to add was a drop of his blood. "Prick your finger with the needle there," were Snape's instructions, as he stared down at the bright blue potion. Nodding, Harry did as the guardian asked and let the drop of blood fall into the potion. He backed away slowly as the Heritage Draught began to bubble and froth, barely hearing Snape's mutter of, "He made it perfectly..."

Harry jumped back as a pink streak popped out of the potion and arranged to spell his mother's name.

**Mother: Lily Ann Evans-Potter**

_Here it is!_ a voice inside Harry's mind screamed, and he shut his eyes tightly as a blue streak popped out of the potion as well.

**Father: Severus Tobias Snape**

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Severus and Harry gaped at the names for a good five minutes in silence, until they faded away and the potion stopped bubbling. _It's true,_ Harry kept thinking. _Snape really is my...my dad._ He was just about to say something when the Potions Master whirled around and gripped him by the shoulders, staring at him intently. He was muttering under his breath. "Growing two inches in two weeks," he murmured, swiftly looking Harry up and down, "hair is starting to lie flat, face shape is changing, perfect eyesight..."

"S-sir?" Harry stammered, but Severus cut him off as he stepped back and clenched his fists. He'd gone extremely pale.

"Get out."

"I didn't kn—wait, what?" He stared, startled, at his father.

"GET OUT!" Snape shouted at him, and Harry backed away quickly before fleeing the room. Once he was gone, Severus collapsed back in a chair, putting his face in his hands. "You said he was James's child," he moaned. "You said he wasn't mine...Nothing came out of it...We were drunk..." Raising his head and slamming a fist down onto the ingredients table, knocking a few things over and squashing another under his knuckles, he screamed, "Dammit, Lily, what the _fuck_ am I going to do now?"

For about ten minutes he raged, throwing things about and causing destruction. He even managed to melt a cauldron for the first time in his life, and, later, dimly recalled exploding something else. The haziness of the memory reminded him of the time he'd convinced a few of the inner circle Death Eaters to snort Floo Powder. Voldemort had not been pleased with him when the testers had sneezed, somehow disappeared and reappeared a few feet away, and then exploded while splattering dark green blood everywhere. He'd been under the Cruciatus for more than a minute for his horrible—but definitely not accidental, for once he'd healed he'd laughed hysterically for hours about it—mistake, and tortured by other means for another three.

At last, panting heavily and falling to his knees to stare at his ruined potions lab, Severus took a few deep, calming breaths and closed his eyes for a moment before stumbling to his feet and turning toward the singed door.

It was time to go find his son, and find out whatever he could about their newest situation.

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By the time he'd found Harry, Severus had a headache and he looked quite disheveled and exhausted. The boy was on the Astronomy Tower, looking down at the grounds below and frowning. Severus joined him, standing a few feet away and leaning forward against the tower's side in a similar position to Harry. "You've known," he said after a surprisingly comfortable silence, "since your fifteenth birthday. That is what you meant by yelling, 'You slept with my mum,' is it not?"

"Yeah," Harry said heavily, gazing down at Hagrid's hut and wondering where his large friend was. "My mum wrote a letter, to be passed down by certain house elves. I guess Dobby got it and hid it in my pillow case when he was giving me lunch."

They were both silent once more, and then Snape sighed audibly. "May I read it?"

Harry glanced sideways at him, and for a moment their eyes met. They looked away at the same time. Harry nodded. "You can read it," he agreed. "We should make copies. One for you, and one for Dumbledore."

"Albus would like one as well, yes," Severus murmured, and rubbed his face wearily. "You need to wash your hair," he said, without looking at the boy beside him.

"So do you."

"Remind me to take five points away from Gryffindor for your cheek, once term starts," Severus smirked. Harry couldn't help but grin at him. "Perhaps I should write it down to remind myself, instead..."

"That would be a better idea," Harry snickered, and then grew sober. "You were drunk when you and my mum slept together, weren't you, sir?"

Snape closed his eyes. "More or less, yes."

"Did you even know each other?"

The Potions Master nodded. "We had been best friends before and during school. It was at the end of my fifth year that everything went wrong. It was after Lily and James got married that I saw her again, at the Three Broomsticks. I bought her a few drinks and we talked, for old time's sake. The next thing I know, I'm waking up in bed beside her with next to no recollection of what had happened."

Harry could do nothing but laugh. "Got quite a shock when you realized you were both naked, didn't you?"

His father snorted. "'Quite a shock' doesn't covered it. I screamed so loudly that I woke the rest of the village. They thought it was Lily that screamed," he added, a bit sullenly.

Harry giggled. "You're shitting me."

"Don't you laugh. Lily's scream was very shrill, and, supposedly, so is mine. That means you're doomed to a shrill scream no matter what."

"Well, bugger."

"Watch your tongue," he said sharply, mostly without even meaning to.

A sarcastic look that had never before crossed James Potter's face appeared on Harry's. "That's rather hard to do, sir, and I would look foolish if I tried."

Severus resisted the urge to face-palm, and inwardly asked himself what the hell he was thinking when he grudgingly agreed to take this impossible boy in and take care of him for the summer. He was already struggling with the fact that Harry was his son. "Why didn't you tell me about the letter?" The words slipped out before he could stop them from doing so, and Harry looked up at him. _He's only a head shorter than me now...God, how could I have been so blind? The resemblance, although faint at the moment, is obvious._

"I...I just thought that you would be angry," Harry mumbled. _I feared rejection._

"Angry?"

"Yeah." Harry pushed away from the tower wall, and stretched. "Is it lunch time yet?" he asked, and Snape smirked at him before nodding curtly and following his son down the stairs. "Can I have hot chocolate with my sandwich?"

"We'll see."

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"Stop your infernal humming," Severus growled as Harry spun around lazily, humming loudly and giggling every few seconds as he bumped into the walls and furniture.

"But we're in Never Never Land! Humming ensures that you'll never grow old," Harry snickered. He'd managed to get past the wards guarding Snape's liquor cabinet, and decided to get completely "sloshed," as the man called it. Just to see what it was like. So far, it was very fun. Ramming into a chair and causing it to tip precariously before settling back down, Harry giggled. A few papers spilled to the floor as he hit his hip against the table, and he laughed at Snape's aggravated expression.

"If I found out you've been in my liquor cabinet, you won't live to see the next school year," he snapped, using his wand to flick the papers back up onto the table as he continued reading the Daily Prophet.

"I'm not drunk!"

"You're certainly acting like you are."

Harry stopped spinning and leaned over the back of the couch to read the headline of the Prophet over his father's shoulder. What he saw shocked him. (Or what he mostly saw, for his eyes were a bit unfocused.) "The Boy Who Lies—what? They think I'm lying about Voldemort being back?"

Severus nodded as he turned the page and gestured to another article. "They're also making it publicly known that you are believed to be a dangerous and mentally disturbed young man," he said. "They seem fond of implying that you'd like everybody to worship you. There's only a few comments here and there about it, but it's obvious who they're talking about."

Fuming, Harry resisted the urge to kick the wall as hard as he could. Being drunk increased his anger. "Those—those bastards!" he hissed. "I'm not lying, and I'm not insane!"

"Of course not." Snape sneered contemptuously. "Cornelius Fudge is a pigheaded fool that will go to any lengths, even ignore the fact that the Dark Lord has returned, to secure his position as minister."

Sitting down next to his father on the couch, for he had begun to sway where he stood, Harry frowned at the Prophet and then asked, "Why do you call him that? The Dark Lord."

"All Death Eaters call him that," Severus replied shortly, before going back to reading.

"But you're a spy," Harry retorted, "not a Death Eater," though he had his doubts. Snape confirmed those doubts with his next words.

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. The Dark Mark assures that."

"But...isn't there something we can do about the Dark Mark?"

Severus shook his head wordlessly, hiding his own disappointment. He knew, perfectly well, that there was nothing they could do about the Dark Mark. He'd taken it willingly, when he was a young man just setting out into the world, and now he had to pay the price. Even Dumbledore, though reluctantly, agreed. The old man was always trying to find a cure for the Mark. None had been found, and none would ever be found. That was just the way it was, and he'd gotten over it years ago.

Harry stared curiously at Snape's left arm, drunkenly wondering if the Mark showed up clearly all the time since Voldemort was back. "To be honest, I'm not sure why he chose to call himself Voldemort. Sounds like moldy shorts, if you think about it."

Severus snorted. "You'd better pray the Dark Lord never hears you say that." He paused to flip a page of the paper, and then added, "And don't say his name."

Sullenly, Harry demanded, "Why not? Dumbledore tells me to always say his name. 'Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.'"

"If the Dark Lord knows you call him that, he won't be pleased and you could be in far greater danger than usual. In Dumbledore's office, you may call him by his name. Any other times, you may call him Tom."

"Tom Riddle is his real name, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Harry nodded slowly, and then giggled giddily. "I wonder what his reaction will be when I meet him again, and call him Tommy."

"He'll scream the Killing Curse at everything he sees," Snape said promptly, though he couldn't hide his smirk. "And by the time he begins to do that, I would suggest you get out of there."

"Has he ever been really angry at you?"

"Once," the Potion's Master nodded. "I convinced about six of his most powerful Death Eaters to snort Floo Powder. By the time he arrived, those six or seven were sneezing, teleporting, and then exploding in a burst of dark green blood. He looked like a leprechaun by the time it was over, and another five of his Death Eaters had been killed by the Killing Curses that were flying everywhere. The only thing I could say in defense was that, at least the blood was Slytherin colors."

Harry cracked up. "Easiest way to kill a Death Eater: give them a straw and some Floo Powder."

Snape shrugged. "They seemed to enjoy it." He paused, frowning thoughtfully, and then continued: "They seemed very skilled at the snorting part, now that I think about it."

"Do you mean to say that they'd done drugs before?"

"Most likely. Either that or they were unusually talented at sucking things up their nostrils." Severus smirked at the disgusted expression on Harry's face. "I remember, once, when Lily accidentally snorted her Pixie Stick."

"Pixie—"

"Muggle candy."

Harry's light bulb went on. "Oh! Dudley used to have those, sometimes."

"And who is Dudley?" Severus asked, scanning his memory for any recollection of a student named Dudley. _Dudley...heh. Such a manly name,_ he thought sarcastically.

"Dudley is my cousin," Harry shrugged. "The fat git, remember? The one who implied that I'm gay."

"Ah." Fixing his son with a steely eye, he asked evenly, "And are you?"

"Er—not that I know of," Harry sniggered. "I think I was talking in my sleep. Said Cedric's name a lot, I guess...Remember, he thought Cedric was my boyfriend?"

Snape nodded wisely. "Now that you mention it, yes. I do remember that."

"That was the night you asked me what I thought a fat Dumbledore looked like."

For a moment, they merely stared at each other. Once their eyes met, however, the two dissolved into laughter. Yes, Snape turned to the side and covered the visible half of his face with his hand, so that Harry couldn't see him, but the boy could see his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. He felt a strange exultation at the fact that he'd successfully made Severus Snape, Greasy Git of the Gloomy Dungeons, Overgrown Bat, laugh.

Of course, it _was_ at Dumbledore's expense, but...Surprisingly, Harry could quite easily see a fat Dumbledore, gorging himself on fifty Lemon Drops at a time, sitting in his chair at the Great Hall and shoveling down ten plates of food. _What would a fat house elf look like...? _he wondered, before giggling hysterically, and a bit drunkenly; he'd managed to get into father's liquor cabinet, just like Severus had thought, though he'd only had a few drinks. Just to see what being drunk was like. "What if we were all fat?" he gasped out, imagining a fat staff, fat friends, and a fat Snape. That last made tears run down his cheeks, and his stomach hurt.

**(A/N: No, I'm not making fun of fat people. I have friends that some people call fat. I'm merely making fun of a fat Dumbledore =D!)**

_Who would have thought?_ Harry grinned as they began to recompose themselves, before cracking up again when the image of a chubby Dumbledore came into their minds once more. _Snape really can laugh!_

**WOOT IT'S LONG! Erm...yeah. Review, please! xD**


	7. Bad Hair Day

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** If Casey Anthony can get away with killing her poor baby Caylee (hope Casey burns in hell, the lying bitch!), then I can get away with writing fanfiction.

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**A/N: **Sorry, guys! Didn't plan on my internet being down for almost two days.

Draco comes along in the next chapter. =D!  
>And guys, thanks for all your reviews so far. They really do make my day.<p>

A big thanks to my beta, **Natz29**, as well. ^^

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**Chapter Seven:** Bad Hair Day (a day where everything seems to go wrong)

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"Just as I thought," Severus commented as Harry staggered into the living room the next morning—_or should I call it afternoon?_ Severus thought sarcastically, knowing that it was already one in the afternoon—with a throbbing headache and nausea. "You somehow managed to get past the wards on my liquor cabinet and get sloshed."

"I feel horrible," Harry moaned, lying on the couch and putting a pillow over his head. "Please, Dad, kill me now..."

"I'll give you a hangover remedy if—What did you call me?" Snape spluttered, whirling around and staring at Harry with wide eyes. The boy grumbled a bit, and then lifted his head to fix his eyes blearily on his father.

"What do you mean?" he snapped. "I called you—" He froze, and then went a bit red. "Oh. Sorry, Professor," he mumbled. Harry braced himself for any yelling or scolding that might occur. _He's gonna kill me...Who said he wanted a kid like me in the first place? I stole alcohol from him, for Merlin's sake!_ "I didn't mean to; it just slipped out."

Severus nodded a bit, looking lost in thought as he grabbed a potion vial and poured it into a cup. "Drink this," he said, pushing it toward Harry. "You'll feel better in a moment."

Harry downed the vile-tasting liquid and then relaxed as his headache and nausea were washed away almost immediately. "Thanks, sir," he sighed, and then went red again. "Sorry I stole from your liquor cabinet," he said. _Oh, God...Hermione will kill me if she finds out I was drunk! Snape will probably make fun of me in class for it...Ron will probably think it's funny. Stealing alcohol from Snape and living to tell the tale—I'll be the headline in the newspaper for my bravery! Boy Who Lives steals from Man Who Brews._ He grinned at the thought, and carded a hand through his hair—only to freeze in place when it lay almost completely flat afterward. "P-Professor?" he stammered, eyes wide.

Turning around, Severus glared at him and then paused. "Your hair is lying flat," he commented, and stepped forward to look more closely. "It's darker, too."

Harry was instantly up and hurrying toward the bathroom, noticing that he didn't have to hop up onto the sink to see his full torso anymore. Leaning toward the mirror, he turned his head from side to side and saw that his hair was lying flat, and was completely straight; it was now raven black instead of the charcoal color it had been before, and there were little dark red highlights here and there. His face was thinner was well; his cheekbones were a bit higher than they were before. Turning slightly to study his father in the mirror as well, for he was standing right outside the bathroom and smirking, Harry looked back at himself and groaned. "I look like you!" he cried. Even his voice was different—deeper, smoother.

Snape scowled. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, but...I look really different," Harry confessed. He studied himself in the mirror again, and almost screamed when he saw that his chin was pointed, his lips thinner. His nose was longer, not as cute as it had been before. It was straight and rather...elegant. "Oh, God...I'm getting pointy!"

Snorting, Severus questioned, "Pointy?"

"I have a pointy chin! My eyebrows are thinner...I-I think they're arched."

"So it seems." He took a good look at his son. "You need a haircut. Very badly."

"No, I don't," Harry retorted, turning to face Snape. "It's a perfectly decent—" He looked in the mirror again, and saw that his hair was a little bit past his shoulders. "Oh. I think you're right," he mumbled. Then he brightened. "I could wear my hair in a ponytail at this length!"

His father glared. "Absolutely not. I won't have my s—" Pausing, he swallowed hard and then said, "I won't have you looking like a vagabond."

"Please, Professor!" Harry begged, grinning in a goofy fashion. "Just until we get it cut, okay?"

Severus wavered on the brink of acceptance, and sighed deeply. "All right. Just until we get it cut."

He had a plan.

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"This isn't fair," Harry grumbled as he was dragged off to Hogsmeade. Just like he'd wanted, his hair was in a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck. He'd spent nearly half an hour admiring himself in the mirror afterward, beaming pathetically. "Completely unfair. Even Dumbledore complimented my hairstyle!"

Severus snorted. "Albus's hair is extremely long as well. Of course he would." Keeping a tight but not uncomfortable grip on his son's upper arm, he pulled the lightly resisting boy out of Hogwarts. "Now hurry up, Harry. The barber shop closes at six, and it's already five."

"Can't we wait until tomorrow?"

"No." Snape stopped outside of the gates of the school. "Now hold on. We're going to be using Apparation to get to Muggle London."

Putting an arm around Harry's shoulders, Severus turned on his heel and Disapparated to Muggle London. This time Harry only staggered a bit, with Snape holding onto him to make sure he didn't fall. Once Harry had gotten his bearings once more, they set off down the street. They were both silent for quite a while, and then Harry asked something that had been on his mind ever since Severus had asked him the exact same thing. "Sir?" At Severus's small nod, he continued: "Are you gay?" Snape spluttered and looked down at him incredulously. "Sorry if I offended you, or anything—I'm just curious."

Snape continued to stare at him, looking almost horrified. "Why would you believe that I'm sexually attracted to men?"

"I dunno...I was just curious!" Harry exclaimed, holding up his hands and grinning weakly.

Again, they were both silent, and then Snape looked down at him again. "I had you, didn't I?" he pointed out at last. Harry frowned, stumped.

"Oh. Right," he said slowly, looking almost disappointed. "I've always wondered what it would be like to have a gay dad."

"I shall never understand you, child." Silence reigned once more, until Severus asked his own question. "Are _you_ gay?"

"I'm not sure."

"What do you mean, you're not—?"

"You wouldn't know either, if you had a dream about making out with Malfoy," Harry said defensively, and Severus turned away a bit to hide his grin. The boy was dreaming about Draco? Interesting. "It was a really weird dream. It was even worse when I saw him later that day, and couldn't help but laugh really hard when I did. He hexed me that day," Harry added, looking suddenly sullen. "You gave me detention."

Severus frowned. "That little...scene of yours...took place in my classroom, did it not?"

"Yup."

"Mm...I remember now. He called you a gay prick, too, and sabotaged your potion that day."

Harry sighed. "Yeah. He did." He looked up at his father. "I really didn't deserve that detention, you know."

Snape didn't reply. He looked troubled.

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"So? How is it?" Harry asked, revolving slowly on the spot. His hair was now close to his shoulders, and boyishly cut once more. A few strands hung in his face, though thankfully only a few of them were very greasy so far. _I'll need to wash my hair tonight._

"Adequate," Severus nodded, with just the faintest ghost of a smile. "I often had the same style when I was your age."

"Really?"

"Really. Unfortunately, you seem to have inherited a bit of the oiliness that comes along with it." He smirked as Harry made a face, and thanked Merlin that the boy didn't whine. They had oily hair, and that was that. They were stuck with it. "Yours isn't as bad."

Harry was very relieved.

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"That's odd. I had no idea it was already winter," Severus said sarcastically, and frowned as the warmth seemed to slowly be sucked out of the air around them. He glanced at Harry, who looked confused for a split second—before horror crept onto his features. _He looks pale as death...Where have I had this feeling before?_

"P-Professor," he stammered, "I think Dementors are nearby."

_Ah. That's where I've had the feeling._ Severus looked around, and then gripped Harry's arm tightly as he dragged him down the streets of Hogsmeade. "Harry, don't pay attention to the cold. Just keep moving, and tell me if you see anything."

Harry nodded, looking around nervously as they ran down the icy cold street, wands out and at the ready. Suddenly, he gasped and pointed to a dark shape ahead. "Sir! Right over there—a Dementor!"

Just as Harry saw the first Dementor, coming close enough to steal their happiness and possibly their very souls with a Kiss, Snape whirled around and saw the other. They were trapped between the two. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ Severus and Harry roared together, and a silvery white doe and stag erupted out of their wands to drive the Dementors away. The Azkaban guards vanished a split second later, and Snape turned to Harry.

"Are you all right?"

"She's screaming," Harry mumbled. He was covered in a cold sweat, and swaying slightly.

_That's right...He hears Lily scream when the Dementors come close. Dammit!_ Putting an arm around his son, Severus half-carried him to the gates of Hogwarts, where he hurried to get them up to the castle. As soon as they were to his rooms, he put Harry to bed and went to his couch, sinking back onto it and closing his eyes. For a few minutes, he simply sat there; then, knowing what he had to do now, he stood again and went to Floo Dumbledore.

**(A/N: My beta thought that the Dementor attack was kinda random, bless her. Well, remember, this is around the time of the beginning of OotP. There was a Dementor attack in it—Umbridge just didn't know that Harry ain't in Little Winging anymore haha. Dumbledore will talk to Harry about it in chapter nine, when we leave Draco again and go back to Harry and Sev.)**

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"You've received a letter," Severus informed his son at breakfast, the day after the Dementor attack. Harry looked up from his fried eggs and toast and grinned when he saw Hermione's handwriting on the front of the parchment. His grin faded when Severus snatched it away before he could grab it. "After you finish your meal, you may have it," he said sternly, and set it down on the nearby counter. For the remainder of breakfast, Harry stared at the letter. When Snape was standing up, he voiced his troubles.

"Sir? What do you think Hermione and Ron will do when they see what I look like now?"

Studying him, Severus narrowed his eyes a bit before shaking his head. "The changes are slight," he assured the boy. "They won't be able to tell the difference, unless they look very closely. You may want to continue wearing your glasses." As Harry opened his mouth to protest, Severus continued: "We'll switch the prescription lenses with clear glass. Your haircut will help as well—it's messier than it was before, with the long hair."

Harry's eyes went wide. "Oh! Was that one of the reasons you didn't want me to have long hair? Because it would be dangerous for both of us?"

"Exactly."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "And here I thought you just didn't want me to have a ponytail, like Bill."

"The oldest Weasley child?"

"Yeah. His hair is as long as Ginny's."

"Girl-Weasley." Snape nodded wisely, and then started to head toward the door of his private quarters. "I'll be in my lab. If you need me..." He left it hanging as he left.

"Bye!" Harry called out, before grabbing his letter from Hermione and scurrying off to his bedroom. Why hadn't his friends written until now? He still hadn't heard from Ron, either. Carefully unfolding the parchment, he began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_ How has your summer been? Are you all right? Snuffles said that Dumbledore told him you're not at the Dursleys anymore. I'm sorry this letter is so short, but I can't risk putting too much into it. Our letters may be getting taken aside and read by a third party—the Ministry, Dumbledore thinks. In the Muggle world, as you know, that's illegal. Fudge thinks that Dumbledore is trying to build an army so that he can become Minister of Magic; he's allowing them to read our mail now, and wants to either sack or use people as spies, if they have close contact to Dumbledore. It's horrible, don't you agree?_

_ Write back soon, won't you? I'll try and get Ron to stop being lazy and write as well. We've been cleaning a lot this summer. Once you can visit, or once we see you at Diagon Alley, we'll tell you all about it._

_ Love,_

_ Hermione_


	8. A Bee in One's Bonnet

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** If Meyers' can write crap like Twilight, I can write fanfiction. ;)

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**A/N: **Sorry it took so long to update. I was extremely busy. But hey, I'm fifteen now so whatever lol. (Birthday was on July 27th.)  
>YUP! I have officially changed the title of "Not My Idea." Hope you like the new one, 'cos I know I do!<br>By the way...If you don't like what Draco does momentarily, and it won't last long 'cos he only does it every once in a while to numb his mind, then stop reading this instant. I'm talking about c-u-t-t-i-n-g. Tis an evil thing I myself have been clean of for less than a month now. Horrible addiction.

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**Chapter Eight:** Bee In One's Bonnet (an obsession)

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Turning over in bed, Draco Malfoy yanked his green silk sheets up to his chin and scowled up at his ceiling. He couldn't sleep, no matter what he did; all he could think about was—NO! He would_ not_ start thinking about the stupid Gryffindor again! After all, Potter would never _ever_ think about _him_. Why would the Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Die think about Draco Malfoy, Slytherin extraordinaire? The very name of "Malfoy" was cursed by his father's loyalty to the madman Death Eaters called the Dark Lord.

Of course, Draco thought about Potter often. Who didn't? Half the time, it was all some people (cough cough, Girl Weasley, cough cough) could even think about. No, the problem was the _manner_ in which he was thinking about Potter.

The thoughts had started a few days before the school year had ended. Here he was, sitting on top of his bed after carefully making it—his mother had drilled neatness into him at an early age—and brooding about how he'd been turned into a ferret by a Death Eater. The prick was supposed to be on his fucking side, and here he goes and turns him into a _ferret_! The nerve of the man...He was just as insane as his master.

Anyway, Draco had hardly even noticed when, all of a sudden, he was musing over Harry's vivid green eyes. This also wasn't very odd; many people thought about the emerald color. It was a Slytherin color, through and through. It clashed rather badly with those Gryffindor colors, too...Scarlet, gold, and...emerald? No. Just...No.

Draco's thoughts were not on the horrible clashiness (was that even a word?). Instead, he was thinking about how the color was perfect for Potter's complexion. A thin face, large beautiful eyes, a neat little nose, full lips he wished he could just ki—WHAT THE HELL?

That train of thought that come to an abrupt stop. _His lips? Why the hell am I thinking about his lips?_ Draco had thought, scandalized by his own traitorous thoughts.

And suddenly, especially now while he lie in bed in the ghostly darkness of his bedroom, the image of said lips came unbidden into his mind. Even Draco could not ignore the fact that Potter had very nice lips.

Rolling over once more, Draco pulled one of his goose-down pillows over his head and screamed into it. He was becoming obsessed with Potter's lips, for Merlin's sake! What was _wrong_ with him? _"What would Daddy dearest say?"_ his mind whispered spitefully to him. _"His son is gay...Won't be able to continue the pure-blood Malfoy line, if you marry a male...Your parents would be so ashamed of you, for thinking about these disgusting things..."_

Before he could even think about what he was doing, Draco launched himself out of bed and dug through his wardrobe as he looked for a specific robe. Not long ago, he'd hidden something in it that would always be there to numb his mind, to keep him from thinking about things like this. If he used his special tool enough, he just might start thinking about girls instead. Pretty girls. With dark, messy hair and gorgeous emerald eyes.

Drawing a bejeweled dagger out from a robe pocket, Draco studied it for a moment and then drew the sharp side across the dough of his palm with a pained hiss. Dropping the dagger, he followed soon after and sat on his floor as he watched a thin line of crimson bubble up onto his pale skin.

He hated doing this. Hated it so much...But it was the only thing that could ever help; Dreamless Sleep was out of the question, for it was highly addicting and could—and would—turn somebody into a shell of what they used to be. No, cutting himself was a better option than that. He would need his quick wits about him if he was going to defy his father and the Dark Lord; he couldn't do that if he had to take a potion that would knock him, every few hours. Draco could just imagine it:

_Draco was running from Death Eaters, stumbling over hidden ditches and stones in the tall grass around him while hexes and the Killing Curse shot past him periodically. He was thankfully nearing civilization, and help from Aurors that would surely take him in and protect him, when he was hit by a craving so strong it nearly had him on his knees._

_ Dreamless Sleep time!_

_ Taking the vial out of his robe pocket, he eagerly yanked the cork out and had just crumpled to the ground, asleep, when he was hit by a stray Killing Curse._

He really did need to stop letting his imagination act up, especially with things like that. He knew his perfectly well, and yet...He couldn't help but snicker a few times as he replayed the image in his head like a movie. Yes, that would be amusing...But probably not very fun.

Draco slowly stood, still transfixed by the sight of the blood on his palm, slowly dripping to the floor. He walked back to his bed after wrapping the injured hand in a towel he'd coincidentally put there just a few hours before lights out, huddling underneath his duvet and closing his eyes with a firm resolve not to think about Potter for the next few days. After all, it wouldn't do for his father to realize what was constantly on his mind. He had no idea if the man knew Legillimancy, and he didn't want to find out now. Especially not in the worst way possible.

_As least you're not having wet dreams about Potter,_ Draco thought, and snorted at the thought as he hunkered down and flung his pale arms around a pillow next to him. Hugging it, he let himself relax and smiled softly as he sank into a restful, healing sleep.

He dreamed about pretty girls, with messy dark hair and emerald eyes.

**Sorry it was so short, guys. This one was purposely short; just a little taste for what's to come later on =D! Review, okay? Like, please. Reviews make my day.**


	9. Don't Have a Clue

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, I would probably have a heart attack and float to Heaven. Unfortunately—or fortunately, however you wanna look at it—I can only write the fanfiction. *sob*

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**A/N: **You know, Snape really was a hero. For years and years, he kept up the appearance as a spy, as well as protecting Harry AND Draco, on the two's mother's orders...He lived such a horrible, hard life, and played what I believe is the second-most major part in the entire series. He was a huge character, and so believable...He hated Harry, and yet cared for him at the same time. It's tragic, and it makes me want to cry every single time I think about it.

**THE END OF THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN REWRITTEN**

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**Chapter Nine:** Don't Have a Clue (without knowledge or understanding)

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Severus Snape was in the shower when he heard a scream, and he turned off the water immediately. Hurriedly toweling off, he pulled a robe on and then rushed out of the bathroom. "Potter?" he called, his voice echoing slightly in the sudden, ringing silence. "Potter? HARRY!"

There was a small whimper from on the couch, and Severus walked over to it with his wand held protectively in front of him. Upon seeing the sleeping, albeit writhing Harry, he relaxed a bit and then gingerly shook his shoulder. Harry moaned in what seemed to be pain, and his obsidian eyes narrowed when he realized that the normal waking methods weren't going to work. With a sigh, he gathered his dripping hair and then twisted it together, causing water to splash down onto Harry's abnormally pale face.

Harry shot up into a sitting position, gasping as the warm water hit his face, and scrubbed the soapy liquid out of his eyes before glaring up at the person responsible for such an attack. Then, upon realizing that Snape had been right in the middle of shampooing his hair, he gaped. "So you _do_ wash your hair!" he whispered in awe.

Glaring at the boy, Severus spat, "Yes, I do wash my hair, Potter. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go and continue doing so."

Harry watched, openly ashamed of his words and embarrassed at having been woken up from an obviously noisy nightmare, as Severus stalked back to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. Getting up off the couch, he stretched and yawned before looking at his watch and checking the time. The neon blue numbers stood out eerily in the dim light of the living room, announcing that it was currently 12:46—nearly one in the morning. _When did he get back?_ Harry wondered, stretching and yawning as he recalled that Snape had left after breakfast, saying that he would be in his potions lab. It seemed that the man had only just now come back. _He must be exhausted._

Wondering if this was the reason why Snape had seemed so snappish after waking him up, Harry trotted over to his bedroom and fell into bed with a sigh. He really couldn't figure the Potions Master out. One second, Snape would be almost nice to him—keyword: almost—and the next second, he would be snapping and snarling and sneering. He was such an unpredictable person! And Harry knew all about predictable.

Uncle Vernon was predictable. Harry could usually tell what Uncle Vernon was going to do to him, seconds before he did it. That instinctive survival skill had gotten him out of a few broken noses. Ron Weasley was predictable; before telling him something, Harry could usually tell what the gist of the older boy's words were going to be, and the way he would say them. Cho Chang was predictable; all she really did lately was cry, talk about Cedric Diggory, and cry some more. She was a human hose-pipe, and if he was honest with himself, Harry had no idea what he had seen in her during his fourth year.

Severus Tobias Snape, on the other hand, was extremely unpredictable.

Oh, sure, he knew that if you were disrespectful or a Gryffindor, the man could become very nasty and cruel. But when you tried your very best to stay on his good side, and were living with him, no less...Harry had no idea what to do or expect.

Pondering this, Harry didn't even notice when he'd fallen asleep, only to be woken up by a knock on his bedroom door eight hours later. "Breakfast will be ready in half an hour, Po—Harry. Get out of bed and freshen up a bit before you come eat."

Harry hopped out of bed and then sat back down onto it as his bare feet touched the icy stone floor. _Socks first,_ he told himself, and promptly began to search for a pair. He pulled a spider off of one, and a sense of nostalgia washed over him as he remembered doing the same thing in his cupboard, a few weeks before he'd received his very first Hogwarts letter. It felt like a life-time ago...

Padding across his bedroom floor, the Boy Who Lived crept out and to the bathroom to shower before breakfast, wondering when his reply to Hermione's letter would reach her. Twenty minutes later found Harry standing in front of the bathroom mirror with a towel wrapped around his thin waist, studying his foggy reflection. Wiping away the steam from the hot water, Harry narrowed his eyes a bit and then sighed. His eyelashes were longer now, and his skin was a bit more pale than it had ever been. His nose was even a bit longer, though it was smaller. Lily's nose. He suddenly realized the time, and dashed out of the bathroom and across the hall to his bedroom, dressing quickly and combing his hair. He still couldn't believe that it lay flat and straight now; what would people at school say? _I could pass it off as straightening my hair...I wonder if there's any charms to do that? I'll look it up in the library, to make sure...I need to be prepared, after all._

He sat down at the kitchen table in front of Severus, who was reading the _Daily Prophet_ with a shrewd, calculating look on his face. Setting the paper down, he narrowed his eyes at his son and asked outright, "Do you like being famous?'

Harry was caught off guard by the question, and blurted, "Definitely not."

Severus seemed equally shocked, but hid it quickly. "I see...The _Prophet_ believes otherwise."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked curiously, with just a touch of apprehension. Severus snapped the paper straight, and set it in front of him to read. There was a small section of print that informed the wizarding world of the fact that Dolores Umbridge was to be the new D.A.D.A. teacher, to "keep an eye on that Potter boy." It then went on to give their opinions on how Dumbledore was obviously getting too old to do anything useful, and how the Boy Who Lived's mind had been affected when he'd been hit by the Avada Kedavra.

Severus watched Harry expressionlessly, as he grew from curious to outraged, and blinked when the child yanked out his wand and promptly set the article on fire. The clipping slowly disintegrated into ash, and Severus impassively cleaned up the mess with a flick of his own wand. "The one thing I can't understand," he said calmly, but with a sneer, "is why that Skeeter woman hasn't been writing anything lately."

To his surprise, Harry began to fight a grin off his face. "Er—yeah. I'm sure lots of people are wondering that."

"I'm assuming you have something to do with her mysterious absence of nastiness?"

"Mostly Hermione," Harry shrugged.

"Granger?"

"The one and only." He took a bite of his toast, watching as Snape raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Oh, um, you're probably wanting to know what I'm talking about...Hermione never said that I couldn't tell anybody; I'm sure Ron's already told his brothers..."

Severus was suddenly a bit wary. Whether he would admit it or not, Granger was one of his most talented students; she was also, it seemed, a genius. "Do correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm sure she did something completely horrible, that would make McGonagall choke on her evening tea."

"Oh, of course," Harry said agreeably. "After all, Skeeter made her look to be some kind of scarlet woman, so—"

Severus spluttered. "Scarlet woman?"

"Er—Ron's words, not mine," said Harry quickly.

"That makes sense, yes..."

"Anyway," the boy went on before Snape could say anything else, "we were kind of wondering how Skeeter managed to get so many stories, when they were completely in private and nobody could ever have known. She was also getting interviews from Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins, and we didn't know how. I suggested bugging—a Muggle thing—"

"I am aware what 'bugging' is, Harry. I grew up in a Muggle neighborhood."

"Oh—you did?"

Snape didn't reply, but inclined his head. Harry frowned, letting his information sink in before continuing. "Er—well, Hermione told me that electronics couldn't work in Hogwarts, but then she got kind of weird and ran off to the library. Ron and I didn't figure out why until we were on the Hogwarts Express to go home after fourth year; one of us made a comment about Skeeter not writing anything lately, and then Hermione pulled out a little jar..."

What Harry was implying suddenly clicked together in Severus's mind, and he sighed deeply while covering his face with his hands wearily. "She's an Animagus..."

"An illegal one, yeah. A beetle."

"And Ms. Granger caught said beetle?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Then she made Skeeter swear not to write anymore articles, or else Hermione would spill the beans about her being an illegal Animagus. So that's why she hasn't been writing anything lately."

Severus suddenly smiled. It was a horrible smile, one that meant the Potions Master was planning something excruciatingly nasty. Harry winced, and then relaxed when he realized that Snape wasn't planning something evil that involved causing ill intent to his son. "Interesting information...Ms. Granger may not be allowed to tell anybody, as long as Rita Skeeter keeps her promise, but I made no such promise, myself...I'm sure the name 'Professor Snape' or even 'greasy git' came up anywhere in their little conversation..."

And here it was. One of the only reasons, so far, that Harry could be glad about the fact that he had Snape as a dad. He could tell him all about his little adventures—except for the Polyjuice Potion, of course, for that would be suicide; although he was the man's son, he was sure Snape wouldn't care either way while he force-fed said son poison—and get all kinds of help to punish bad people such as Skeeter. "You're going to make her pay for everything she's ever said, aren't you, sir?" he beamed, and was amazed when Snape chuckled darkly.

"I am a Slytherin, Harry. She'll regret ever having been born." He turned suddenly businesslike, and said seriously, "I would suggest you get ready to leave."

He was startled. "Y-you're not kicking me out, are you?" Harry looked a bit panicked. "I shouldn't have told you about Skeeter...You don't want a troublemaker like me, do—"

"What in the name of Merlin are you talking about, child?" Severus demanded, and an icy uncertainty filled his heart. _Albus said he was abused...What if he was right?_ "I'm not getting rid of you, for God's sake. We're—I'm—have to go to a meeting for the Order."

Harry frowned, his worries quickly put to rest. "What is the Order?"

Severus sighed. The child knew nothing about it? "The Order of the Phoenix, a somewhat secret organization that strives to defeat the Dark Lord. Dumbledore is our leader; I'm sure you'll recognize many of the members. We have a meeting today, and..." He braced himself for the gleeful explosion that was likely to take place. "And your godmutt will be there," he finished, so quickly that he slurred the words together.

Harry gaped. "Sirius will be there?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Er—kind of. You sounded almost drunk when you said it." He frowned. "_Are_ you drunk?"

The Potions Master resisted the urge to face-palm. "Of course not," he said irritably, and stood up. "We leave in five minutes. I would suggest you go put on your shoes, and wipe the trail of butter off of your chin."

Harry flushed, and quickly wiped off said butter before pausing and asking uneasily, "What will I tell them?"

"What do you mean, what will you tell them?"

"I look a lot different than I did at the end of the year," Harry pointed out, and a sarcastic expression crossed his face. It made the resemblance between them so obvious that Severus felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He paled greatly, and cleared his throat a few times before answering.

"Tell them you straightened your hair," he suggested, just a bit weakly.

Harry snorted. "I had the same idea, but I don't know any charms that straighten your hair."

Severus frowned. "Tell them you have a straightener, then. Return your cousin's favor and tell them that it belongs to him; you took it from him."

"Nice story. 'I nicked my gay cousin's straightener.' 'Why is he gay?' 'Because no girl would ever want him.'"

Severus snarled under his breath. "Fine, then. Tell them the truth instead. See if I care, Potter."

Harry looked alarmed. "I didn't say it was a bad story. And he does look like he uses a straightener, so...It would work...And what happened to Harry?"

His father looked away, and Harry realized uncomfortably that he looked a bit embarrassed at his cruel deduction. "I'm sorry," the man mumbled, so quietly Harry barely heard him. It was a child's apology, but he knew that didn't matter; Severus Snape, the Greasy Git of the Dungeons, had just said sorry to him for behaving like a jerk. "I...You sounded annoyed by the idea." Clenching his jaw and then mentally berating himself, Severus said stiffly, "Get ready to go. We need to leave in a moment."

Harry nodded, swallowing hard as he went to his bedroom and pulled on his shoes. Within seconds, he was back in the kitchen. That was when Snape noticed, for what seemed to be the first time ever, what he was wearing. "You call those clothes?" he growled, glaring at Dudley's old clothes, and peeling trainers. "A house-elf wouldn't wear those rags."

"They're all I've got, sir...Sorry." Harry was confused. Nobody had ever cared about what he wore; all they cared about was if he had clothes at all, and wasn't running around naked and free.

"Your aunt and uncle never supplied you with the basic necessities?" Snape demanded, looking furious.

"I—we're poor, sir," he said, inventing wildly.

"Yes, of course you are; that's why you live in a large house filled with all sorts of fancy furniture. I was the one who saw your former home, P—Harry." He leaned down a bit, so that their faces were a foot apart. His lips had curled up in a silent snarl, exposing his uneven teeth. "Don't. Lie. To. Me."

Harry tried not to shudder, clenching his fists as to not show weakness. Snape was a bit scary when as angry as he was. The only time Harry had ever seen him truly in a screaming rage was when Sirius had escaped in his third year. _That_ had been terrifying, not that he would ever admit it. "I'm not lying," he said, a bit defiantly, and quickly added a "sir" to that statement. "Honestly," he continued when Snape seemed even angrier.

"Answer me this, then: how in the name of Merlin are you so 'poor,' as not to be provided with decent clothing, when your relatives receive a hefty payment each month for having taken you in."

Harry went pale. He'd never known this. How many times had Uncle Vernon spat about how much it cost to feed and clothe him, how much it cost to give him a place in to sleep in—a place that had been a cupboard for ten years straight? How many times had Aunt Petunia sneered at him when discussing money, as if silently telling him that keeping his ungrateful hide was costing them a fortune? How many times, when he had been a small boy and dared having ask a rare question, had he wondered why he received only the things that had been used by others, instead of newer items for his enjoyment? Even his glasses had come from a charity bin, and he'd only gotten them because the school nurse had made Petunia get them for him!

Severus was getting even angrier by the second. "Well?" he demanded. "They don't seem very poor to me, boy!"

"Don't call me that." The words were numb and unfeeling; his eyes were glazed over. He was stuck in a sort of dreamland, having come to the sudden realization that he had, indeed, been neglected almost all his life.

"What?"

"Don't call me 'boy.'" Harry was shaking, now, and Severus jerked back when a few of the glasses in the room suddenly exploded. Shards of glass showered the floor, and Severus ducked to avoid a few pieces that went flying at his face. By doing this, he hit his cheekbone hard on the corner of the bookcase next to him, and flinched from the sudden pain. Blood trickled slowly down his cheek from the gash-to-be-ugly-bruise, but he paid it no mind.

"P—Harry!" Snape said in alarm, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking a bit. "Calm down. I won't call you that again. Take deep breaths, Harry, deep breaths."

Harry did as he was told, and then he slid to the floor while hugging his knees. Severus joined him, and then Harry noticed the slice on his father's cheek. "You're bleeding," he pointed out a bit faintly. "Did I do that?"

Severus shook his head, and said quietly, "I'll be fine." He didn't even bother to wipe the crimson flow away. "I won't call you 'boy' anymore, Harry." He suddenly swore, and said, "We're going to be late for the meeting...Now listen," he said, helping his son to his feet and quickly making sure that he was calmed down enough, "I will keep up my appearance as the horrible dungeon bat, if you wish."

"Oh, um...You can lighten up a bit—call me Potter, but don't make any rude comments. It'll be like we're just barely starting to tolerate each others' presence. Dumbledore won't be upset that we supposedly haven't made any progress, and my friends will be relieved to know that I haven't gone to the dark side." A ghost of a smile crossed both of their faces, and then Harry bit his bottom lip. "Ron and Hermione are going to be there, right?"

"Yes, they are," Severus replied, and without another word he left his quarters. Harry followed him out of the dungeons and, after that, the castle. "We're going to be Apparating, as you can probably tell."

Harry grimaced. He hated the feeling of Apparaton. Hopefully, he would be a bit more used to it by now. They reached the gates of Hogwarts a moment later, and this time Harry managed not to flinch out of pure instinct when Snape draped an arm across his shoulders and drew him close before turning on his heel and Apparating.

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"HARRY!" Hermione flung herself into his arms as soon as she caught just the smallest glimpse of him, and then looked up—and froze. She quickly untangled herself from his arms, and frowned. "Harry? You look...different."

Harry's grin became a bit fixed, and then he shook himself off a bit. "Oh, yeah. I nicked Dudley's straightener, just to see what my hair would look like straight. It's longer when it's not a nest of tangles on top of my head, isn't it?"

Ron stumbled down the stairs, and paused as well. "Wow, Harry!" he exclaimed. "You've gotten a lot taller! Where are your glass..." The two suddenly noticed Snape, and Ron's eyes went wide. "Hello, Professor," Hermione greeted him, and Severus nodded silently in reply. He shook his hair out of his eyes a bit, and Hermione bit her lip when she saw his blood-coated cheek, but she said nothing. Snape wasn't likely to be grateful by her pointing out the fact.

"Well, Potter, we'll be here for about an hour. Enjoy the time with your friends while it lasts, yes?" Harry smiled easily and nodded, much to the bewilderment of the other two, and then tugged on his friend's arms.

"C'mon," he muttered. "Let's go somewhere else. I've got loads to tell you."

Ron nodded, and led Harry up the stairs and to the room he was staying in. "Mate," the red-head breathed in amazement, "he didn't even insult you! What the bloody hell hasn't gotten into Snape?"

Harry laughed and said, "Dumbledore decided it was time I left the Dursleys'. He made Snape take me in for the summer, so I've been living with him. We have a sort of truce right now. He doesn't insult me, and I don't yell at him or invade his privacy."

Hermione looked uneasy. "What happened to his cheek? It was all cut up and bruised and there was blood all over him."

"Oh, er—he hit it on a bookcase when all the glasses in the room shattered."

"Harry! You didn't explode his glasses, did you?"

"Speaking of glasses," Ron cut in, saving Harry from what would have been a stern talking to, "where are yours?"

Harry quickly came up with a story. "I got Muggle contacts. They're like glasses, only you put them on your pupils and you can see. I nicked some of Dudley's money—it's not like he's going to miss it, he has plenty—and went out to buy some. They work great, too!"

Ron looked relieved. "Oh. I thought you suddenly didn't need them anymore, or something. That would have been wicked, wouldn't it? But it would have been weird. Magic can't fix everything, after all."

"Actually, one witch in Bulgaria discovered a way to fix eyesight within a six-month span, using all kinds of potions and—"

"All right, Hermione," Ron said in exasperation, "we get it. Magic can fix eyesight. You didn't have to go and lecture us about it!"

"Who said I was lecturing?" Hermione retorted. "I was just informing you, Ronald, that magic actually _can_ fix eyesight!"

Harry sighed. "Stop fighting, you two! I haven't seen you in ages, and all you can do is bicker!"

The two turned to stare at him, and then laughed. "Sorry, mate," Ron grinned. "We'll try not to fight so much, okay? Until you leave, of course."

Hermione smiled, and hugged him. "We missed you too, Harry," she said softly, uncovering the hidden meaning in his words. Within moments, they were all in a group hug.

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"Ah, Severus!" Dumbledore exclaimed as he strode in. "Glad you could make it; you are a few minutes late, after...Severus, is that blood?"

Severus shook his head. "It's nothing, Albus," he murmured, and looked away so Dumbledore wouldn't be able to see the cut anymore. Mad-Eye Moody glared at him from across the room, his electric blue eye set upon his left forearm as if making a statement. _Bloody paranoid Auror,_ Severus thought with a sneer. Moody sneered right back, but their growing contest was interrupted as something damp and warm touched his injured cheek. Caught off guard, he flinched away and put up a defensive hand, remnant reflexes from his abusive childhood, and scowled when Molly Weasley batted it away and tried to clean the cut once more with a wet washcloth. "Molly, I'm perfectly fine," he ground out.

"Nonsense," the infuriating woman tutted. Some of the other Order members were smirking now, as Mrs. Weasley fussed over him. "Stand still, and we'll clean you up. You're covered in blood. What happened to you?"

He didn't reply as she mopped off the blood on his cheek, and he was a bit alarmed to see the thing come away completely red. Surely it wasn't _that_ bad! As if reading his mind, a very likely thing to happen, Dumbledore conjured a small mirror and showed him the ugly gash in his cheek. It was a lot worse than he'd originally thought, and this time he let Molly clean him up while Dumbledore listened to the werewolf talk about the weapon the Dark Lord was after. Each time the idiot said the Dark Lord's name, his Mark twinged with pain.

"Severus? Have you any news for us?" Dumbledore asked as soon as Lupin's report was finished, and Severus put on his customary sneer while inwardly cringing almost guiltily.

"The Dark Lord has not called for me in a few weeks now, Headmaster," he replied.

"In other words, the Death Eater is hiding something about his meetings from you," Moody growled, and Snape inwardly seethed. How _dare_ the man keep implying that he was a traitor, after all he'd done to risk his life! "He was probably late from one of his meetings."

"Potter lost control of himself, and had a panic attack," Severus ground out. "He exploded all of the glasses in my quarters, and I—" He grimaced, hating to admit weakness. Nonetheless, he plowed on. "And I hit my face on the corner of one of my bookcases."

Molly looked exasperated, and began to clean the cut with renewed vigor. She was now trying to get the drops of blood out of his clothing, which was quite hard to do considering that the clothing was black, making the crimson color hard to see. "Why did he lose control?" Mad-Eye demanded, fixing the former Death Eater with a hard, distrustful look. "You were harming him, eh?"

"Of course not," he snarled, momentarily losing control. "I was getting information from him, on Dumbledore's orders!"

Before Moody could retort to this, Dumbledore interrupted. "Severus was indeed following my orders. These orders are likely to instill quite a few panic attacks in Harry, until he comes to terms of what had happened and lets us help him. That is why he has been living in Severus's quarters most of the summer."

Jaws dropped throughout the room. Sirius had just entered said room, and froze. Sirius growled, and turned toward Dumbledore. "Albus, have you lost your _mind_?"

Dumbledore smiled amiably. "Fortunately for us, I have not lost my mind. Would you mind informing us why you think I have, Sirius?"

"You heard about the attack on the two Muggle families." Sirius glared at Severus. "Why didn't you warn us about them? You're with Voldemort at least twice a week, aren't you? He would have said something about it."

"I have not been Summoned for—" Sirius cut Snape off, much to his annoyance.

"A likely story," the mutt scoffed.

Severus's eyes went darker than usual. "What are you implying?" he asked in a tight, bitter voice. His hands were clenched beneath his robes, where they were out of sight. Nobody here, besides Albus, would _ever_ see him completely lose control of himself.

"Were you one of the Death Eaters attacking, Snivellus?" Sirius demanded, looking both accusing and furious.

"Sirius!" Albus said sharply. "Severus was nowhere near the attack."

"Then where was he?" Moody grimaced. "I don't remember seeing him at the meeting that morning, and we weren't able to reach him."

_Dammit._ That was the day he'd found out about how Harry was his son. How the hell was he going to explain that without giving out information on the boy's newest—and possibly deadliest—discovery? "I was occupied," he hissed, his potion stained nails digging into his palms.

Moody glared at him. "Doing what? Casting Unforgivables on five-year-old Muggle boys? Raping a teenage girl before killing her?"

How _dare_ the man suggest that! "I was brewing potions with my—" He quickly stopped talking, aware that he'd nearly given them all the secret. Dumbledore shot him a warning look. "I was brewing potions."

"With who? You were about to mention somebody else," Sirius pointed out bluntly. "Have a secret girlfriend hidden somewhere, Sniv? Though what girl would want you, I have no idea."

_Calm down. Don't retort,_ Severus told himself soothingly, and took an inaudible deep breath. A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and before he could think his actions through he had slapped the hand away with a snarl of, "Don't touch me!"

Molly appeared surprised, and a bit hurt. Dumbledore looked resigned, while the others looked very angry. "You psychopath!" Sirius spat. He took a step forward, and Severus leaned back warily. _I've done it now,_ he thought bitterly, cursing himself in multiple languages. "You just hit a woman!"

"Sirius," Dumbledore said tiredly, moving toward the two.

Harry's godfather turned toward the old wizard, seething. "Why are you _protecting_ this monster?" he snapped. "You trust him and protect him where no one in their right mind would, and he repays you by being completely horrible to everyone around him. Obviously, nothing you do means _anything_ to him!"

"That is not true," Severus said quietly as he desperately tried to reign in his temper. His eyes were locked on Albus' face. Sirius spun around to glare at him, but Snape just gazed past him as he appealed to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smiled sadly at him in a sign that he understood, and Severus felt very relieved all of a sudden. As long as Dumbledore still trusted him, everything would be perfectly fine. "Severus..."

"I believe it is time for me to go, Headmaster," Severus said, interrupting him. _I am no longer welcome here._ The words hung, unspoken, in the air; everyone shifted uncomfortably, knowing perfectly well what the end to the sentence would have been.

Sirius stepped forward once more. No matter what, he wanted the last word here. "Why would it be time to leave? Is your _master_ calling for you?" he said scornfully.

Whirling around, as he had been striding toward the door, Severus spat into Sirius's face. "Worthless mutt," he grumbled, turning away. Sirius exploded with a sudden fury. Shoving the taller man viciously in the back, he landed a hard punch on the side of Snape' head. Severus fell to his knees at the sudden attack, and gripped his aching head with a quiet groan. However, ignoring Moody's satisfied smirk and Sirius, who looked a bit ashamed from the raging look that Dumbledore was giving him, he climbed to his feet and walked calmly out of the room.

He closed the door carefully behind him, and as soon as he was alone he punched the wall as hard as he could. Shaking out his bruised knuckles ruefully, Severus studied the hole he'd made and then made his way up the stairs to collect his son.

"It's time for us to leave," he informed the boy when he entered the bedroom a group of teenagers were in. "Say your goodbyes quickly, Harry. I need a headache potion and some fire whiskey."

Nodding silently, and ignoring the thunderstruck expressions on his friends' faces, Harry hugged them all goodbye one by one and then followed Snape out the door. "Are you all right, sir?" he asked as they headed out the door. Molly Weasley stood in the hallway, looking anxious and clearly fighting back the urge to mother Severus. Quietly apologizing to her, Severus closed the front door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and drew Harry close before Apparating.

He didn't answer the boy until he'd had quite a few drinks in his quarters. He was indulging Harry with humorous stories from his childhood, most having to do with his misadventures with Lily. Before he knew it, Severus was completely drunk.

Harry smiled and walked toward him, helping the unsteady man to his feet. "Professor," he said softly. "C'mon, Professor Snape. You need to sleep off all the alcohol."

Severus mumbled something akin to 'just leave me here,' but Harry laughed and shook his head as he pulled his father to his bedroom. He paused outside of the door, knowing that Snape didn't let him into his bedroom, but after a moment's hesitation he pushed open the wooden barrier and gently shoved Severus onto his bed. He pulled off his boots and teaching robes, and then yanked the covers up to the man's chin. "G'night, Dad," he said cheerfully, knowing that Snape would remember absolutely none of this in the morning.

"Goodnight, Harry," Severus mumbled, turning over and hugging his pillow as he slowly closed his eyes.

Harry went to bed that night with a smile on his face.

**Gwah... x)  
>Review!<strong>


	10. Balls to the Wall

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** It's not mine Dx!

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**A/N: **Well, I got my very first semi-flame last night. Let's get this straight, guys: I do not romanticize child abuse. Child abuse is a horrible thing, and I've actually helped an eight year old a few streets down get custody from a different family member that will actually care for and love him.

That was a very serious accusation to make, when you don't even KNOW me. I'm merely writing fanfiction. And let me point this out, as well: some people have Vernon Dursley raping Harry Potter in their fanfictions. All I have is a few punches here and there from Vernon, and Dudley's gang taking care of the rest. As for Severus Snape, there's actually hard evidence in the books that point to the fact that he was abused. I'm following the story line there. So if that's romanticizing, then 75% of the writers on here, including me, need help.  
>...Also, what the hell is an iron maiden? O.o<p>

**THE BEGINNING OF THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN REWRITTEN**

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**Chapter Ten:** Balls to the Wall (push to the limit)

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"What happened?" Harry asked as he and his father ate breakfast the next morning. Severus looked worse for wear; his cheekbone was bruised, he was far more pale than usual, and he was moving a bit sluggishly to hint that although he'd only just gotten up from a solid ten hours of sleep, he was ready to call it a day and get back in bed. "When we left early."

"There were some complications," Severus said hoarsely, taking a long drink of his coffee. He merely glanced at the headline of the newspaper and then tossing it aside without a second thought. "The Order does not approve of your current living conditions."

Harry took a bite of buttered toast, and thought about this while he slowly chewed and then swallowed. "They won't try to get me moved, will they?"

"They had better not," Snape growled in reply, stabbing at his breakfast as if venting his frustrations onto them. "I know, better than most people, what moving a child away from his guardians can do."

"What do you mean?"

"I displayed signs of magic at the age of three, my father was outraged and began to abuse my mother." Taking another sip of coffee, Severus went on calmly. "My mother became a drug addict, and the year I went to school my father left us. After he left, my mother became the abusive one; once she was arrested for potion abuse, I taken away from her and moved to my father's, and...Well, I'm sure you understand what happened."

Wincing, Harry nodded. "I understand, sir," he said. His voice was dull. "I guess my grandparents weren't very nice people, then."

Severus didn't say anything.

"Sir?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, Harry?" As usual, Harry felt contented to hear his given name coming from his father's mouth.

"What happened to your mother?" It felt a bit odd to be talking about a teacher's mother, especially Snape's. But the man had to have come from _somewhere_, and it had been proven that two men could not create babies by themselves. _It would be weird, to be born from two blokes...Would the baby be gay, too, knowing how it was made?_

Snape grimaced. "Dead. She died years ago."

His tone left no room for further words on the topic, and Severus pointedly took a bite of his Eggs Benedict to show that his mouth was now full, and he would not be answering any more questions about his family.

_"They're his family, too,"_ said a voice in the back of his mind that sounded remarkably like Albus Dumbledore. _"He deserves to know what he is, at least. For all he knows, his blood status has changed."_

For the first time in his memory, Severus took the advice of the voice and sighed as he set fork down. "I'm sure you have more questions about our family, yes?" He had to practically choke out the word _our_.

Harry nodded, looking apprehensive. "I'm not a Muggleborn now, am I?" was the first thing he asked. "I couldn't be a pure-blood, with mum being born into a non-magical family..."

Severus hesitated. "You're a half-blood. Your blood status has not changed. In fact, you're less of a pure-blood than you were in the first place."

"James Potter was a pure-blood?" Harry asked, quickly cottoning on. Severus nodded, and his son frowned. "But that doesn't make sense...Aren't _you _a pure-blood too?"

"No."

Harry looked a bit shocked. "But I thought—"

"You thought wrong," Severus interrupted quietly. "It's very rare, but at times there will be a half-blood that is admitted into the selective House that is called Slytherin or, as some of my roommates used to call it, 'pure-blood paradise.' I was an outcast among my own kind." They both took bites of their breakfasts, and then Harry asked him what his favorite classes had been. "Arithmancy. I had a decent teacher in that class; when Slughorn actually admitted that I was seventy-five percent of the reason why your mother was getting the Outstanding that she was, I rather enjoyed Potions class. Every Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher hated me. They believed me to be a Dark wizard that was sure to join the Dark Lord. In my first year, no less."

"That's not right," Harry grumbled. "I have to agree that most of the Slytherins seem like an unpleasant lot—sorry, but it's true—but it's not fair to assume that every person there is following Volde—I mean, Tom.

Severus looked mildly pleased. "With that statement there, you have figured out one of the reasons I favor my House. To keep up appearances, and award them for their achievements when nobody else will."

His son bit into a sausage while he thought about this. Swallowing, he said, "That makes sense. But do you really have to be so cruel to the others? Like Neville, even. He's terrified of you; if he wasn't, I'm sure he would be a great student of yours. Well, good enough to at least earn an A or even an E."

"Longbottom causes devastation the moment he sets a finger on one of his poor cauldrons, Harry. He receives fantastic marks in Herbology, as Pomona brags, but he is far too clumsy to brew even a soothing solution correctly," Snape said dismissively. "It's one of the reasons why I send students such as him out of the classroom early; as Minerva puts it, I show no mercy, even for children that have done nothing but blow something up or roughhouse in my class."

"Have you ever lost control of your magic?"

"It's a rare occurrence, but yes."

"It would be bad," Harry said quietly, "if you lost control of your magic. Lots of people could be hurt."

Severus glared at him. "Which I why I generally keep others at a distance, including you."

"I would be fine."

"I will not be able to forgive myself if I harm my only son." He looked as surprised as Harry when he said that, and quickly stood up. "I'll be brewing for the rest of the morning. Keep out of trouble and be ready for leave in the afternoon."

Before Harry could answer him, he was gone.

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Severus was bottling his finished headache potions when the Summoning came. He nearly dropped one of the vials he was corking when the Dark Mark flared to life, and gripped his left forearm with a pained grimace. Putting a stasis charm over the other potion, a burn soother, he all but sprinted out of his potions lab and down to his quarters. Harry was sitting on the couch and reading a book, and jumped as Severus burst into the room. "Get to Dumbledore," his father ordered as he marched into his bedroom and pulled out his Death Eater robes and mask. "I've been Summoned."

"Okay, Dad," Harry replied, saying the last part under his breath. Severus cast him an odd look, but said nothing as he walked swiftly out of the room once more.

Slowly standing, Harry made his way down to Dumbledore's office and spoke the password. When he knocked at the door, Dumbledore called, "Come in!" and he went inside the man's office and sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

"Dad's been called to a Death Eater meeting," he informed the headmaster, who looked amused at the word 'Dad' and grim at the words 'Death Eater.' "Do you think he'll be all right? He looked like he was in pain."

Dumbledore nodded, smiling softly. "He'll be all right. The Dark Mark burns when the Death Eaters are Summoned; it's an irritating, but not unbearable pain."

Harry looked down at his hands pensively. "What do you know about his mother, Professor?"

"His mother?" Dumbledore appeared mildly surprised. "He hasn't told me much about his mother; I don't believe he likes to think about her...Is there something in particular that you would like to know?"

"No," Harry said quickly, feeling guilty about having asked about Snape's mum. "Dad says that she was a user of drugs, and that she abused him as well. Is this true?"

Albus leaned back in his chair with a frown. Severus had never told him anything about being abused by his mother, as well. _I may have to speak to him about this..._ "It must be true, if he told you. Severus would never lie about something as serious as abuse."

"Sir? May I ask a question?"

A bit reluctantly, Albus smiled. "You have already asked several, but I don't believe a few more would hurt."

Harry smiled sheepishly back at him. "Er—what happened last night at the Order meeting? We had to leave very early; I think Ron and Hermione were really disappointed."

"The meeting started off rather badly for Professor Snape last night. Alastor Moody distrusts him and made the fact known, Molly Weasley was fussing over the cut on his cheek, we were all rather disappointed in him for not having any new information for us, and..." He winced, but continued. "He and Sirius got into an argument, and your godfather eventually saw the need to resort to violence."

"Sirius hit him?" Harry looked both sympathetic and a little bit amused; it had just not been Severus's day.

"Twice. He also pushed him into the wall."

"Pushed him into the wall—? I'd better send him a letter, find out his opinion on why he did that..." The raven-haired teen grimaced. "No wonder he was very angry." Harry paused, and bit his bottom lip. "Professor? Why do Dad and Sirius hate each other?"

Dumbledore shifted uncomfortably. "Your father and the Marauders did not get along well together. Often, Severus was hexed and attacked in the hallways and outside by them. They bullied him, in blunt terms; it is why Severus has been bitter to many people for so many years. Ronald Weasley has red hair, reminding him of Lily's hair. Hermione is a highly gifted Muggleborn; so was Lily. You had—have—her eyes, and looked like a carbon copy of your father. I'd rather imagine that he felt James Potter laughed at him from beyond the grave. All three of you remind him of what could have been, and he hated you for it."

_James Potter was a bully? _Harry thought this over unhappily, and then sighed. "I also have something else to ask about, sir..."

"I thought you might." Dumbledore smiled at him. "You're wondering why there was a Dementor attack on you and your father."

Harry nodded slowly. "It was completely unexpected. One second they weren't there, and another they were." He paused, and then blurted out, "Did you know that Dad's Patronus is a doe?"

"Yes, Harry. I know."

"Why is it a doe?"

"Patience, child. I believed you had a question for me to answer." Dumbledore took a deep breath and began. "I believe it was an attack ordered by the Ministry itself. The Ministry has become corrupt and twisted; Cornelius Fudge still refuses to inform the public on Voldemort's return, and now Dementors were sent to Kiss an innocent child. These are dangerous times, Harry, and it would do you good to watch out for Dolores Umbridge. She's to be sent here to spy and interfere with our school. I wouldn't be even remotely surprised, in truth, to find that Umbridge had something to do with the Dementors."

The frowning teen was about to ask another question when there was a knock on the door, sounding very soft and almost weak. Dumbledore granted entrance just as the door opened and Severus nearly fell to his knees outside of it. It seemed the door had been the only thing holding him up. The man was trembling violently, but forced himself to his feet and collapsed in a chair. "He wasn't in a very good mood," Severus informed Dumbledore in a shaky voice.

"What happened, my dear boy?" Dumbledore asked him quietly.

"He knows Harry's been moved from his relatives' house." Severus grimaced as a wave of pain, remnants of the Cruciatus, ripped its way through his body. "Of course, he expected me to know this and wondered why I didn't tell him...I was punished, of course; there was no other reason for the meeting other than confirming the rumor."

Dumbledore sighed. "I see. This changes things. Are you all right?"

"I'll live," came Snape's customary answer.

"How long were you under it for?"

Severus didn't answer. He'd been under for a little over five minutes, not that he would ever tell Dumbledore that. He didn't need more people fussing over him, and that was exactly what would happen if Dumbledore knew; he would be forcefully taken down to the Hospital Wing and made to stay for at least three days. Looking at a small calender hidden away on Albus's wall, his eyes widened in shock when he realized that the students would be arriving in four days time. _Has the summer really gone that fast? Harry better have done his homework..._Such a fatherly thought had him nearly laughing, as the corners of his mouth quirked up.

"Severus, Harry told me some interesting things about your moth—"

_SHIT!_ "I haven't planned any of my classes yet!" Severus half shouted, not paying the slightest attention to anything that the headmaster was saying. He launched himself to his feet, ignoring how he swayed slightly. "Harry, let's go. You need to finish up whatever homework you haven't finished yet."

Harry couldn't help but grin at this display, as his father hurried out of the room with a barely visible limp and down to the dungeons. "I would come down later and ask him about it, if I were you," he told Dumbledore, who laughed and bid him farewell.

_SHIT!_ Harry suddenly thought, gasping, and then running after Snape. _I forgot to write my Potions essay!_

**Harry isn't calling Sev "Dad" in front of him yet. It'll be fun to write Sev's reaction when he does xD! Review? Pwetty pwease? -puppy eyes-**


	11. Gone to the Dogs

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** Thank God fanfiction isn't illegal, or I would probably be in court right now.

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**A/N: **Sorry I'm updating so late, guys. I've been busy with the first days of my high school years, and obsessing over French class—I LOVE it so far! French is an absolutely gorgeous language. ^^  
>Anyway, <strong><span>I UPDATED THE END OF CHAPTER NINE, AND THE BEGINNING OF CHAPTER TEN. MIGHT WANNA CHECK IT OUT, FOLKS!<span>**

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**Chapter Eleven:** Gone to the Dogs (heading towards ruin)

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"The students will be here in two hours," Severus informed his son, who nodded as he dragged his packed trunk out of his bedroom and over to the door. "Umbridge will arrive in half an hour's time. Is there anything, almost anything at all, that you would like to do before she arrives and attempts to somehow destroy your life?"

"Yeah. I'd like to give Mrs. Norris a good kick up the—"

"I didn't mean something that will get you murdered by Filch," his father said flatly. "I meant in terms of..." Severus grimaced, and then spat out the next word. "Bonding."

Harry stared at him blankly for a moment, and then struggled not to smile. "Dumbledore put you up to this, didn't he?" he snickered. Severus nodded jerkily, and Harry started to laugh. He stopped after a moment, and cleared his throat. "Er—we could get ice cream, maybe?"

"It would be dangerous for us to be seen out in public together."

"But I don't really look like Harry Potter now, do I?" Harry persisted. Severus didn't answer, but quickly looked away. _Is he denying that I'm his kid? Merlin...I'll have to call him my sperm donor and watch his reaction. _With this in mind, he decided to give in for the time being, and said, "Actually, maybe you're right. Would the elves have any ice cream, then? They do for the feasts, and I'm sure nobody will miss a few scoops."

Severus sighed but nodded, and went to the fireplace. He Flooed the kitchen elves, spoke briefly, and a minute later two bowls of ice cream, one vanilla and one chocolate, popped out onto the table. Harry sat down, pulled the chocolate over to him, and grinned. "You like ice cream?"

"Everybody enjoys eating ice cream, Harry," Severus snapped, though almost kindly. He dug into his vanilla ice cream.

"Let's play Twenty Questions."

Severus frowned. The game Twenty Questions struck a cord in his memory, but he couldn't remember where he'd heard the name before...It had something to do with a...a sleepover? Yes, that was it. One of the nights he'd stayed over for dinner at Lily's house, Petunia had been hosting a sleepover party. She and four other girls had been playing Twenty Questions. He struggled to remember how to play the game, and finally came up with, "You need more than two people to play."

"Not if you just ask questions back and forth about each other," Harry shrugged, taking a bite of his ice cream. Severus didn't answer, but inclined his head a bit. "I'll go first." Biting his bottom lip, Harry cast through some questions he wanted answered. "When did you and my mum meet?"

"At the nearby park," Snape replied. He thought for a moment. Finally—here was his chance to get some answers on Harry's life with the Dursleys. He'd been wondering how to bring the subject up for weeks, and the child had given him a perfect way. Severus himself hadn't even had to suggest something like this. "Have your relatives ever hit you?"

Harry seethed inwardly when he realized what Snape was doing. The greasy git! _He can forget about me calling him Dad._ "Dudley has," he said evasively, deciding not to call his uncle out. If Snape wanted to invade his privacy, then he would get no answers. "Why do you hate me?"

"I do not hate you, Potter," Snape hissed, and Harry flinched back a bit. Reigning in his temper, Severus said a bit more calmly, "I hate the man who married Lily, not you." Before Harry could say anything about that, he inquired, "Does your aunt refuse to feed you?"

"Nope. She gives me food."

"But not often, and not in large amounts?"

"It's my turn," Harry snapped. "Why didn't _you_ marry Mum?"

Clenching his teeth so hard his jaw ached, Severus ground out, "I called her a vile name that I wish never to repeat." This wasn't turning out like he'd thought it would. By now, they were both glaring at each other. _Seems his trust is far more fragile than I thought._ "How often does your aunt give you food?"

Seeing no way out of answering, Harry scowled. "Pass."

"Answer the question!" Severus barked, and immediately regretted it.

"I don't have to answer the question if I don't want to!" Harry shouted. "You never said we couldn't pass questions up if they were uncomfortable."

"So they _did_ starve you." Snape tried to curb the murderous feelings aimed toward Harry's disgusting relatives, with limited success. Unfortunately, Harry took this fury to be anger toward himself, and a look of stinging betrayal filled his eyes. _Lily's eyes..._

Harry dug his nails into his palms. "I didn't say that," he fumed. "I was never abused! They never hit me, they never starved me—they treated me like a prince! It was always 'Harry this' and 'Harry that.' They loved me, all right?" He was lying through his teeth now, feeling physically sick with the knowledge that he was saying such nice things about the people who'd made his life hell for many long years. He started telling Snape about Dudley's treatment, instead of his own. "On my birthday, they shower me in presents. Dudley hits me, but only because he's jealous of how I'm treated. He doesn't think his parents pay enough attention to him, instead of me. He's also jealous of my better grades."

"Do you know what I think?" Snape said softly, and very dangerously. "I think that you are a liar, Mr. Potter, and am very curious as to why you insist on protecting the monsters you call relatives. Are you frightened of them? Too scared to admit it? Hm...I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, but it seems I was mistaken..."

"I am not a coward," Harry hissed. He sprang to his feet, paying no mind to the halfway empty bowl of chocolate ice cream that clattered to the floor. "You're the coward!"

Something within him snapped, and Severus found himself standing up too. He was angrier than he'd been in a very long time. "I am _not_ a coward, you foolish boy!" he spat. Harry took a step back as a dull flush slowly spread across Snape's sallow cheeks. "NEVER call me that again!"

With an enormous effort, Harry controlled his anger; Snape was scaring him, and he didn't want to push him too far. The man had been a Death Eater, after all. Stepping back again, he mumbled, "I'm sorry, sir."

_What the hell am I doing?_ Severus came to his senses, and took a few steps away from his son. Looking away and gritting his teeth, he said swiftly, "I'm sorry," before sweeping out of the room. Harry watched him go; as soon as the man's bedroom door closed, he picked up the fallen bowl of ice cream and cleaned up the mess before writing a note saying he would be out in the castle. Pulling on his worn trainers, he slipped out the door to Snape's quarters and headed out of the dungeons.

He was almost at Professor McGonagall's office to see if she was there (she'd been gone all summer, visiting her family) when he saw the same toad-like lady from a few weeks before, and ducked into an empty classroom before she saw him and got suspicious. After all, he wasn't supposed to be here; the students weren't going to arrive until later. Silently, he watched through the crack between the wall and door, wondering where she was going; she had no suitcases, and it seemed as if she was heading toward Dumbledore's office. _Should I follow her?_

_"No,"_ the reasonable voice in the back of his mind said, sounding remarkably like Hermione. _"If she catches you, we'll ALL be in trouble—Dumbledore especially."_

Just that morning, his father had warned her against him.

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"_The Ministry is attempting to interfere with Hogwarts lately," Severus said quietly as he entered Harry's room and gingerly shook his shoulder to wake him. Snape sat on the edge of his bed. He had an odd mixture of amusement and depression on his face, and there was the faintest hint of fire whiskey on his breath. "However, as rumor has it, the job is jinxed. She'll be gone by the end of the year. Personally, I'm praying for her to be gone much sooner than that."_

_ "Do you know who put the jinx on the DADA job?" Harry asked, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He reached for his glasses, and blinked in surprise when Severus picked them up for him and absently cleaned off the lenses before handing them over._

_ "I have an idea of who might have, yes..."_

_ "Will you tell me?"_

_ Severus glanced sideways at him, a ghost of a smirk playing at the corners of his thin lips. "Use your talent at being nosy and figure it out yourself."_

_ Harry snorted, and stretched as he lay back down onto his pillow. "Voldemort, right?"_

_ His father winced a bit. "Don't say his name."_

_ "Sorry." He sighed when Severus got to his feet, wandering over to the door and then smirking again._

_ "I would suggest you get back to sleep."_

_ Flabbergasted, Harry shot back up into a sitting position. "You never let me sleep in!"_

_ "I didn't recall three in the morning sleeping in, but you may get up if you wish..." Snape trailed off, a bit snidely._

_ "You woke me up at three in the morning?"_

_ "It certainly seems that way, doesn't it?"_

_ He moaned, rolling over and pulling his pillow over his head. "You're evil..."_

_ Severus's smirk grew into a smile. "Goodnight, Harry," he chuckled, closing the door behind him as he left his son's bedroom._

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Harry grinned as he remembered their early morning conversation, and wondered what Snape had been doing awake at that time. The man ALWAYS seemed to be awake. If he had trouble sleeping, why didn't he just take a Dreamless Sleep?

With a jolt, he realized he'd gone into a daze and that Umbridge was long gone. Shaking his head as if to clear it, Harry crept out of the classroom and then jogged back down into the dungeons. A few moments later, he was back in Snape's quarters. He snorted when he saw his father on the couch, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open as his booted feet hung off the opposite side of the makeshift bed. He was snoring softly. "Daaaad," Harry whispered with a smirk, approaching quietly on sock feet. "Dad, wake up...The other students will be here in half an hour..."

Severus grunted in his sleep and turned his head slightly, so that his face was pressed into the couch cushion.

"Dad, get up."

His father did absolutely nothing this time, and Harry racked his brains for something that would wake him up quickly. Thinking of the perfect thing, he laughed quietly and sucked in some air before yelling at the top of his lungs, "PROFESSOR, NEVILLE JUST EXPLODED ANOTHER CAULDRON AND MALFOY'S ARM WAS RIPPED OFF!"

Snape shot up into a sitting position, disoriented and alarmed. "What? Idiot boy, he forgot the Salamander blood again, didn't..." He suddenly realized that Harry was laughing very hard, doubled over next to him, and scowled. "And you say that I'm the evil one," he grumbled, standing up and stretching. His back popped a few times, and he yawned while checking the time. "Dammit...We don't have long until the others arrive, it seems."

Harry was still chortling. "You should have seen your face, Dad," he gasped. "That was priceless..."

"Hm...I'm sure it was," Severus snapped, though a glimmer of amusement passed through his black eyes. He was heading toward the kitchen when he stopped, and closed his eyes when he realized that Harry had called him 'Dad.' At first he was tempted to mock the boy about it, and then decided to choose his words wisely. "I never considered myself to be a 'Dad' kind of person. More of a 'Father.' But, whatever works..."

"What are you talking about?" Harry seemed surprised, and then bit his lip. "Oh. So you're okay with me calling you that?"

"As I said before, whatever works," Severus said mildly as he poured himself a glass of wine and downed it quickly. "I do agree with you on the point that our...relationship...is a little more personal now for you to call me 'Professor' anymore."

"Really?" Harry was beaming now. _I can call him Dad!_

Severus nodded, and cast him a rare smile. "Really. Now, let's go down and see if Hagrid needs any help with the carriages"—He almost choked on his next word, but managed to get it out albeit a bit painfully—"son."

**Yay! I hated writing their little fight, which is why it took so long for me to update I think. This one was kinda fluffy near the end. ^^  
>It'll get fluffier as it goes on.<br>And again...I UPDATED THE LAST TWO CHAPTERS; MIGHT WANNA READ THE NEW ENDING TO CH. 9, AND THE REWRITTEN PARTS OF CH. 10!**


	12. The Last Straw

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** Not mine. *sob*

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**A/N: **Sorry I haven't updated in so long Dx! My laptop got a huge virus on it, deleted almost everything (including 1,204 pictures of Final Fantasy 7 characters, and 439 pictures of Harry Potter stuff, and other crap that I don't feel like mentioning). Oh, and my book was deleted. Lovely, right? Pretty much the only good thing is that I have most of the stuffed backed up onto my Nook and inkpop account. So basically, I had to get a new computer, which I named Chester Jr.

Anyway...Harry's gonna spill about his neglect/abuse at the Dursleys' =D!

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**Chapter Twelve:** The Last Straw (final addition to stress that makes one's difficulties unbearable)

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_"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."_

_Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Harry distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little "hem, hem" and went on with her speech._

_"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…"_

_Harry found his attentiveness ebbing, as though his brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over on the Ravenclaw table Cho Chang was chatting animatedly with her friends. A few seats along from Cho, Luna Lovegood had got out The Quibbler again. _

_Meanwhile, at the Hufflepuff table Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Harry was sure he was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect's badge gleaming on his chest._

_Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Harry had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have ploughed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste._

_"… because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."_

_She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again._

_"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…"_

_"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Hermione in a low voice._

_"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face towards Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."_

_"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Hermione. "It explained a lot.'_

_"Did it?" said Harry in surprise. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."_

_"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Hermione grimly._

_"Was there?" said Ron blankly._

_"How about: 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged'? How about: 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"_

_"Well, what does that mean?" said Ron impatiently._

_"I'll tell you what it means," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."_

—**pages 212-214 of Order of the Phoenix**

It was just like his father had said, just that morning (that is, if you counted three to be morning). "Great," Harry muttered, glancing up at the head table. Snape was watching Umbridge out of the corner of his eye, and Harry could just barely detect a look of disgust on the man's sharp features. Before living with Snape, he would never have been able to decipher anything but a blank, cold mask. But lately, he'd become better at reading Severus's expressions.

As if sensing his stare, Severus's eyes flickered over to Harry and he nodded almost imperceptibly. Hermione noticed, and a bit of the anger on her face melted a bit. "So you've been getting along a lot better than usual?" she asked.

"Yeah, definitely," Harry grinned. Ron choked on a chicken leg, and looked up in disbelief.

**(Real quick: I know the Umbitch makes her speech after they eat, but I wanted it to be before in DoE. It works better for what I'm writing, lol. Er—anyway...)**

"Snape's been _nice_ to you?" the redhead demanded. "The greasy git of the dungeons? I know he was being civil at the Order meeting—he didn't even insult you—but he didn't seem like he was being very nice, either. Mate, he hates you; he always has!"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "I actually didn't mind living with him," he said. Ron's eyes were extremely wide, but Hermione looked satisfied. "He takes care of me, makes me eat my vegetables, gave me a bedtime, made me do my homework, got upset if I sneaked out and didn't tell him where I was going...Actually, sometimes it wasn't that great, now that I think about it, but...Ron, you're not angry with me are you?" he asked in alarm. Ron's face had turned a bit red, and he seemed to be holding his breath. His fists were clenched.

Abruptly, Ron burst into laughter and put an arm around Harry. "Angry? Why would I be angry?" Before Harry could answer, Ron continued on to say: "He acts like my mum! Honestly, Harry, he gave you a _bedtime_?"

_He's not angry,_ Harry thought in relief. "Yeah," he grinned. "I had to be in my room by nine thirty, and asleep an hour later."

"Ten thirty, not bad." Ron nodded wisely. "Mum makes us go to bed at ten. You have an extra half hour."

"I think that he's been taking very good care of you," Hermione said with a beaming smile. "It's nice to know that you've had proper care over the summer. He seems very responsible."

_Wonder what she would do if I told her he let me have alcohol? Probably throw a fit and scream at him,_ Harry thought, and snorted softly as he imagined Hermione slapping the dreaded Potions Master across the face. Absently, he grabbed some treacle tart as the puddings appeared, biting into it and looking up at the head table once again.

Severus was now scowling down at the Slytherin table, and Harry followed his gaze to Malfoy. Strangely enough, the Slytherin prince wasn't surrounded by his usual gang. Instead, he was sitting by himself near the end of the table, staring at his empty plate and bumping his wrist against his chair. "Look," Harry murmured to Ron and Hermione. The two ceased their bickering, glancing over to where their green-eyed friend was discreetly pointing.

"Yeah, he's been acting odd all night," Ron muttered. "In the prefect's carriage—"

"Prefect's carriage?" Harry was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Ron and I were made prefects!" Hermione said. She looked blissful. "Mrs. Weasley got him a new broom to celebrate."

Harry turned to Ron. "A new broom? That's great!" he exclaimed. Ron's ears went pink, and he smiled back at his best friend. "What kind?"

"Cleansweep," he shrugged. "Decent, but nothing wonderful."

"You know what? You could join the Quidditch team if you wanted to, with a decent broom like that," Harry said seriously. He looked up as Dumbledore stood, made his announcements, and dismissed them; there was a great clattering all around them as students started getting up to leave, and Hermione sprang to her feet.

"Ron, we have to show the first years where to go," she exclaimed, suddenly remembering. Ron nodded a few times, looked over at the nervous first years milling about in confusion, and shouted, "Oy, midgets!"

Harry snorted, and agreed to meet his friends back at the common room in a little bit as he hurried out of the Great Hall with the other students. He saw Seamus and Dean on his way up, and raced to catch up with them. "Hey," he panted, having run up two flights of stairs to reach them. "How were your summers?"

"Pretty good," Dean said. He glanced at Seamus a bit uncomfortably, and Harry blinked at the near contemptuous look on Seamus's face.

"C'mon, Dean," the Irish boy muttered. "I don't particularly feel like talking to a madman."

Taken aback, Harry slowed to a halt and watched as they quickly left him behind. _What was all that about?_ All at once, he noticed the wary looks he'd been receiving, and wondered if he'd been getting them all night long. _How hadn't I noticed this?_ Listening carefully, Harry frowned at some of the things people were saying about him.

"...deranged lunatic...says You-Know-Who is back...Dumbledore's gone senile..."

The _Prophet_ was behind all this, Harry realized with barely suppressed fury. They had all believed the lies told about him. As quickly as his anger had come, it evaporated in the place of resignation.

It was going to be a very long year.

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"You foolish boy," Severus hissed as he paced back in forth in front of his son. Harry had earned his first detention with Umbridge, and during his first class, too. "You need to control your goddamn temper, Harry! Do you have any idea how serious the situation is right now? Fudge could find a reason to try to cart either you or Dumbledore off to Azkaban any day now! Don't go giving him that reason! I want you to use your head for once, understand?"

Harry felt the stress of the past two days increase. "Are you implying that I'm stupid?" he demanded, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by all that had been happening.

"Of course I'm not," Snape snarled. Ceasing his pacing, he gripped his son's shoulders tightly and leaned in so that the idiotic child would have to look him in the eye. "Be wary of Umbridge," he growled.

"I am," Harry snapped back.

"No, you're not! You're allowing your temper to control your actions...Already, you've defied her and landed yourself in detention. Who knows what sort of things she'll have you do?"

"It can't be any worse than cleaning something, or writing lines," said Harry stubbornly. "She's a teacher, and Dumbledore would never let her—"

He didn't understand at all, and Severus needed him to. He needed his son to realize what a precarious situation they were in. "Don't you get it?" he hissed. "Umbridge is as twisted and insane as Bellatrix Lestrange is. Do you know who Bellatrix is? No? Well, she's a Death Eater, and she was the one to torture the Longbottoms into insanity, and brag—even laugh—about it later."

Harry had gone a bit pale, but Severus plowed on relentlessly.

"If the opportunity came, I wouldn't be surprised if she would use the Cruciatus on you. Albus believes that she is the one that sent the Dementors after you, in hopes that taking away your soul would make sure that Fudge's 'hard work' wouldn't be destroyed after it becomes clear that the Dark Lord has truly returned."

"But she's a—"

"Yes, she's a teacher. So was Quirrel, Potter! So was Lockhart! So was Moody's imposter!" By now, Severus's voice had dropped to a whisper, as he stood in front of his terrified son. "Be. Careful. Do you understand? I—I can't lose you. As much as I hate to admit it, you're all I have left."

Suddenly, the shoulders beneath his shaky hands slumped, and he watched as Harry shook his head. "I just don't get," he said in a surprisingly broken voice, "why you even care. You hate me; you've always hated me, Professor. Is it because you know I'm not James's son? Are you just faking it, so you can destroy all of my trust afterward and gloat about it to Vo—Tom? Are you just going to ship me back to the Dursleys so they can beat on me again?"

Snape closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to see the tears that Harry was trying his hardest to hide. "So they did abuse you." His voice was flat, and without emotion.

Not knowing what else to do, Harry looked away and muttered a yes. He was caught off guard when Severus awkwardly put an arm around him. He was so shocked that he didn't even flinch. For a moment they just stood there, uncomfortable, and Snape let go of him. "So...tell me about it," the Potions Master said quietly, after clearing his throat a few times.

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked dully, having resigned himself to his fate.

"Everything."

"All right." Taking a deep breath, Harry plopped down onto the sofa. Snape sat down as well, watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. "They always hated me, okay? I think—I think that they were scared, mostly, of what I can do. Maybe even jealous, in Aunt Petunia's case. For ten years, I lived in the cupboard under the stairs."

He paused as Snape drew in a sharp breath, and frowned at the man's next words. "Did you...feel safe inside of it? Like a haven...dark and warm and small. Nobody could find you there."

"When it wasn't locked, yeah," he muttered. "Did you live in the cupboard?"

"No. I hid in my closet when it became too much." Snape wasn't facing him, as if humiliated by this revelation. He had never told Albus this, and he wasn't going to tell a soul—not even Harry—that he'd been locked in there for nearly five days once his father realized where his hiding place was; he'd never gone into his closet again, and even now was wary of them. That was private, as private as the thick, ugly scars on his left forearm and wrist.

Harry was about to begin talking again when there was a distant boom, and Severus looked up in alarm before sighing. "It seems my Slytherins have discovered heavy metal," he said wearily, and Harry recognized the booms to be heavily beat drums, screamed words, and screeching guitars. "They've sneaked in tons of alcohol, of course, and will be up until dawn...I need a headache remedy."

They both glanced at each other, before starting to laugh. And for a while, they didn't stop.

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**(Beware. Things are going to be really dark here, okay? This is the night after the last part of the chapter)**

He couldn't believe what he'd done. He'd...no, no, he couldn't even think about it without his stomach churning horrendously. For the second time in his life, he'd been forced to—stop! _STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!_ he screamed at himself, shuddering with revulsion. He hated himself...he hated himself so much...

Stumbling over a small hole in the ground, Severus fell to his knees and allowed himself a moment to retch into the grass. He felt disgusting, filthy, repulsive...How could he have—no! He felt quite dizzy as he forced himself to his feet and staggered through the doors of Hogwarts. Not knowing what else to do, and realizing that he was going to break down if he didn't get somewhere get somewhere safe and comforting, Severus broke into a flat-out sprint. He ran harder than he ever had in his life, willing himself not to sob or throw up, and reached the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office in record time. "C-Chocolate frogs," he gasped out.

"Incorrect," the gargoyle replied.

Severus was trying hard not to cry now. "I need to see Dumbledore!" he cried, hitting his fists against the stone guardian. "I need to see him..."

"Severus?"

Whirling around, Severus caught sight of Minerva, and felt like screaming for her to get away.

"Severus, are you all right?"

"I need the password," he begged. "He changed it..."

Worriedly, she scanned his violently shaking frame. He was a real mess, covered in blood and looking close to a full nervous breakdown. "It's Sugar Quill," she said slowly. "Are you—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Severus was dashing up the stairs to Dumbledore. "Albus," he shouted, banging on the door, "let me in right now!"

The door opened, and he nearly fell into the headmaster. Quickly closing the door again, he collapsed into his usual chair and put his face in his hands. "Albus, I can't do this anymore," he whispered, breathing very shallowly. "I can't do this anymore...I need to stop, I don't deserve to live any longer..."

"Severus, I need you to tell me what happened," Albus said urgently. "Has he found out that you're a spy? Are you injured in any way?"

"He—he didn't find out..."

"Then what happened? I don't understand..."

"I had to..._I had to rape a four-year-old!_" The true implications of what he had done hit him, and he felt both faint and suicidal. "I raped...a four-year-old..."

Albus went extremely pale. _Dear Merlin_, he thought, only dimly hearing the sob that wrenched its way out of his traumatized spy. He'd never expected something like this to happen, and was horrified. "Severus, I need you to calm down," he said softly. "Take deep breaths."

"I raped a fucking four-year-old, and had to kill her afterward...I raped a four-year-old...I raped—I wish I were dead," Severus sobbed. Swallowing back the bile that rose up in his throat, he choked out, "I'm gonna throw up," before Albus quickly conjured a bucket and closed his eyes as Severus was violently sick. After he'd emptied everything in his rebelling stomach, Severus wrapped his arms around himself and started to shake. "I'm going to Hell...Lily will be disgusted with me, because I've raped somebody again..."

What? What was this? "Again?" Albus asked, a bit shakily. Had this happened before, causing the surly Potions Master to be reduced to a bawling mess. "Child, tell me what happened to you."

"We weren't really drunk." He wiped his eyes, ignoring the fact that more tears streaked down his flushed cheeks immediately afterward. "She got herself captured, and...Lucius put _Imperio_ on me...I didn't mean to, Albus, I didn't. Harry can never know!"

_He raped Lily Potter. Harry is a product of rape._ Albus had only once felt so horrible, and that was when his sister had been killed.

"Severus...what happened tonight?" Reaching for his lemon drops, he handed one to Severus and coaxed him to eat it; they were laced with Calming Draughts. Almost instantly, the man's tormented weeping ceased and he drew in a few deep breaths before wiping his eyes and looking up. "I need you to explain, child."

"They brought in a Muggle girl tonight. She was only four years old," he mumbled. "In order to prove my allegiance to him, the Dark Lord had me torture her and then rape her, before finally killing her. She had green eyes, Albus...Big green eyes, staring up at me the entire time like she expected me to stop hurting her and get her out of there..."

"I'm so sorry, Severus," Albus said in a somewhat muffled voice, for he had put his head in his hands.

Suddenly standing up and leaning over Dumbledore, Severus snarled, "You can never tell Harry what truly happened. I will _not_ put yet another burden upon his shoulders, Albus. _Never_ tell him!"

As if his strength had failed him, he slumped back into his seat and started to trembling again; the Calming Draught was obviously wearing off.

Sinking into the chair behind his desk, Dumbledore put his face in his hands. _How on earth are we going to keep this from Harry?_ he wondered, while thunder boomed ominously off in the distance, and Severus Snape shook uncontrollably in front of him.


	13. Argus Eyed

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** Je ne possède pas. No matter what language you say it in—in this case, French—it means the same thing: I don't own.

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**A/N: **Hey! Here's chapter thirteen for ya =D! It's going to be a bit short, and it'll take place the morning after Umbridge's second detention—the morning after Snape admits to Dumbledore how Harry was conceived. Well, enjoy!

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**Chapter Thirteen:** Argus-Eyed (observant)

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"Ron?"

Ron looked up as Hermione whispered his name, and set down his quill. "Yeah?" he asked, tearing his eyes away from the Potions essay that he had to hand in that day, having left it incomplete until the very last second; Potions was right before lunch.

** (Note: I know it's not, but I need it to be for one of the next parts of this chapter.)**

"Have you noticed that Harry looks different?" Hermione asked slowly, watching Harry out of the corner of her eye. The raven-haired boy was chewing on some toast and finishing his Care of Magical Creatures homework. Ron seemed ready to say something in a scoffing tone, so Hermione hurried on to say, "You've seen the changes, yes, but...Does he look like somebody familiar, to you? The shape of his jaw, his cheekbones...his hair..."

Yes, that was it. His hair! Hermione leaned a bit closer to Harry, who was still absorbed in his breakfast. His hair was darker, she realized, and it had little red tints in it. _Did he dye his hair?_ she wondered, a bit alarmed.

Frowning, Ron glanced at Harry. "You're right," he murmured. "He looks like somebody we know."

"Yes, but who?"

"Dunno..." With an annoyed sigh, Ron shook his head and picked up his quill again. "I can't concentrate. Hermione, can you help me? I don't know anything about the properties of Salamander Scales."

With a laugh, Hermione nodded and began to list everything she knew about Salamander Scales while Ron scribbled away. For a while, she completely forgot about the mystery of Harry's new appearance. It wasn't until they were in Potions class, the second one of the year and the first one that they were supposed to brew the potions themselves. Expecting for Snape to storm into the room, she readied herself for the bang of the opening door, and was confused when the door opened quietly and their teacher stepped in without a word.

He looked horrible; there were dark circles underneath his eyes, he was paler than usual—quite a feat—and she could just barely detect a trembling in his hands. "Quiet down," he snapped. "Five points from Gryffindor!"

"What for?" Seamus Finnegan had the nerve to demand.

"For being insufferable fools!" Severus snarled at him. "Five more points for questioning me!"

Whirling around, he snapped at Harry, "One point to Gryffindor for having your mother's eyes!"

"That's not fa—oh. Wait..." Harry was bewildered, and so was the rest of the class. "Err—thanks, Professor," he mumbled, lowering his head and grinning to himself. His father seemed really out of it today, and it was almost amusing that he was.

Ron's mouth was hanging open, and he didn't even notice as his essay was yanked out of his hand, flying through the room to land on Snape's desk. As soon as the dungeon bat had turned around, he whispered to Harry, "He gave you points for having the same eyes as your mum, mate! What the bloody hell has gotten into Snape?"

"_Professor_ Snape, Ronald," Hermione hissed, eyes on the board as writing appeared. She ignored Ron's annoyed mumbling and smiled over at Harry, before beginning her potion.

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Harry's hair was greasy.

_Greasy._

His hair was never greasy after working with potions! Hermione was, to put it mildly, alarmed. Trailing behind Ron, who was chatting with his best friend and hadn't seemed to notice the sudden lankness in Harry's hair, she bit her lip worriedly and wondered what she was going to say or do. Finally, mustering up her courage, she hurried to Harry's side and asked quietly, "Did you wash your hair this morning? It's a bit...oily."

"Oily?" Harry reached up to the top of his head, and ran the pads of his fingers over his ever-flattening strands. "Oh. I did forget to shower this morning," he lied, horrified. _My hair is greasy...They're going to start calling me Greasy Git Jr.!_

"But I heard you get into the shower," Ron pointed out, puzzled. Harry's heart sank.

"That was Dean," he invented wildly. "I was just brushing my teeth, putting in my contacts, and using Dudley's straightener."

Ron seemed to believe him, nodding a few times before looking down to adjust the straps on his bag, but Hermione was still suspicious. There was something wrong with Harry's story, but she didn't know what. "I thought your cousin's hair was already straight," she pointed out, having seen the overweight boy at King's Cross at the end of their fourth year. Harry swallowed hard, and forced out a laugh.

"Yeah, so did I, until I saw it in the bathroom one morning," he smiled. He thanked whatever deity that cared to listen that he had a manipulative, spying Slytherin for a father.

At last, Hermione just sighed and shook her head as she looked away and then sped up to walk with Ginny, who had just come out of a classroom somewhere ahead of them. Very gradually, Harry stopped walking, relieved when neither Ron nor Hermione noticed his abrupt absence as he doubled back and ran down the hallway to Severus's office. _They'll be at lunch,_ he told himself. _I'll just tell them that I forgot my potions textbook and had to go back for it...I won't be long._

Bursting into the room without knocking, Harry cried, "Dad!"

Severus looked up, surprised, and relaxed when he saw his son. "Close the door," he ordered. "What's bothering you?"

"I think Hermione's starting to figure it out," Harry confessed, sitting down in the chair in front of his father's desk. Severus swore under his breath, and demanded an explanation. "She kept staring at me during breakfast," he revealed, for he had most definitely noticed the looks he'd gotten from both Ron and Hermione. "She kept whispering to Ron, too. Also, she...She noticed that my hair is greasy," he blurted. He was hesitant to tell the man about his fears, but reasoned that Snape was his father; he was _supposed_ to confide in him, right? That was what fathers were for. Or at least, he was pretty sure it was what they were for. "Dad, what if they start calling me a Greasy Git as well?"

Sighing, Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. He was grateful for the distraction, for he had been brooding over what he had done last night all day. He simply could not get the little girl's screams and sobs to stop ringing in his ears. "If they start to call you that," he said quietly, "I'll give them all detention for two months. That'll teach them to mess with _my_ son."

_The son you had to rape somebody to get._

The words rose unbidden into his mind along with overwhelming guilt, and he struggled to swallow past the lump in his throat. Said throat seemed extremely dry as he choked out more words, grateful for the Occlumency that allowed him to keep his composure as there were no conflicts within. "If it makes you feel better," he sighed, "I'll ask Albus about telling them the truth."

"But then you won't—"

"Be able to spy on the Dark Lord?" Severus shook his head. "No. But if they know you're my son, they won't dare mess with you for fear of being Avada Kedavra'd."

For a moment, Harry felt like shouting an affirmative; he had no desire for his father to be killed, once—if—he was revealed to be a spy. But his common sense took over, and he whispered, "No, it'll be fine...I don't want you to be hurt."

Severus stared at his son for a moment, an odd surge of pride washing over him as he realized that Harry was trying to be mature about this, setting aside his childhood fears in place for matters that involved the fate of their world. However, he thought, although he couldn't promise to set aside his life as a spy, he could put ideas of a bright future into his son's mind.

"It'll all be over someday," he said softly. "And when it is, Harry, we'll tell everybody about where you came from, and we'll be a real family."

Hovering on the brink of hesitation, Harry slowly stood up and went around to the other side of the desk before wrapping his arms around his tired-looking father, saying in his ear, "I'm holding out on that future," breaking away from the comforting embrace, and running out with his biggest grin in days.

**Gwah. Mushy gushy fluffiness!**

**So like...Review? I updated quickly for you! -puppy eyes-**


	14. Forbidden Fruit

**Dirge of Emerald**

**By TasteTheRainbow-xD**

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**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, Draco and Harry would have ended up together and there would have been hot, steamy sex in every other chapter. Your noses would be bleeding so badly, you wouldn't have any blood left in ya. ;)

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**A/N: **Somebody mentioned in a review—couldn't respond, since they weren't on an account or anything—that they thought Umbridge would be a Slytherin. Actually, I think she was a Hufflepuff—the 'Puffs value loyalty and hard work, do they not? Well, isn't the Umbitch extremely loyal to the Ministry? And doesn't she work extremely hard to get what she wants? Ah, Hufflepuffiness in its most twisted moment. -sighs dreamily-

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**Chapter Fourteen:** Forbidden Fruit (anything tempting but prohibited)

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Draco bit his lip as he stared down at his untouched breakfast, listening intently to the conversations of some of the Slytherins at his table. The Dark Lord...Dark Lord...You-Know-Who...sex...who's father was richer...Dark Lord...money...Dark Lord...Snape voodoo dolls (Draco fought back a smile at this one)...sex...gay people?

Gay people.

Looking up, just a teensy bit, Draco watched as Pansy waved her hands erratically. She was off on one of her rants again. "They need to be abolished! Homosexuals are disgusting!" she screeched. A few of the Slytherin girls nodded firmly in agreement, but a few of them—like Bulstrode—rolled their eyes and tuned the aggravating voice out. "The Dark Lord must be against them as well...Of course he would be; we can't have pureblood fags. How would we continue our noble lines if they refuse to have children with good, proper pureblood women?"

He swallowed hard, and quickly picked up a sausage as they looked his way curiously. Ripping a piece off of the greasy thing and popping it into his mouth, Draco chewed as slowly as he could to make it look like his mouth was too full to talk. He cringed inwardly when his teeth met a piece of chewy fat, and when he was sure nobody was looking he spit it out into his hand and flicked it into Goyle's hair. The idiot looked around in confusion, having obviously felt something, but shrugged a few seconds later and when back to shoveling scrambled eggs and bacon into his gaping maul. _And this is why I have absolutely no appetite anymore,_ Draco thought sarcastically, as he watched a glob of spit fly out of Goyle's mouth and land on the side of his plate.

Horrified by this, Draco stood up and walked away from the table. "Drakie!" Pansy screamed after him. "Where are you going?"

_Away from you people._ "On a walk," he replied. Thank Merlin it was Saturday; he hated sitting with Pansy during classes.

The second he was out of the Great Hall, Draco broke into a run and sprinted down to the basement where the kitchens were. He was rounding the corner and about to catch sight of the painting of the many fruits, when he slammed into something and fell backward onto his rump. The person he had rammed into staggered back, and Draco looked up to see the Weasley twins.

"Oh, sor—oh. Malfoy," the twin he'd run into said flatly.

"Weasley," he replied curtly, and nodded his apology before getting to his feet and jogging toward the kitchens once more. Fred and George followed him rather curiously, with smirks on their faces.

"Malfoy's all alone," the one on the left—Fred?—commented. Draco looked up, his hand outstretched toward the pear. _Are they going to attack me?_ he wondered, watching in morbid fascination as the one of the right grinned and slowly pulled out his wand. _Pulled out his wand...Heh...Merlin, I have such a dirty mind..._

"It seems he is," replied the other twin. "How interesting..."

Draco slid his wand out of the inside pocket of his robes, and took a deep, steadying breath before pointing it at the two. The Weasley twins laughed, and lowered their weapons. "You didn't think that we were actually going to hex you?" the one on the right—George?—scoffed. "Not after you did all that research for us on fireworks last year...We're almost finished with them; we'll let you test them with us, once they're done and ready to roll."

"I thought you were joking about that," Draco murmured, stowing his wand away and turning to face them.

Fred shrugged. "It was part of the deal, wasn't it? You gather research for us, and we give you a free sample of the fireworks and let you be the very first to see them."

Nodding sagely, George said, "A Weasley doesn't back out on deals."

If he wanted to be truthful to himself, Draco would admit that he had no idea what to say to that. So, with the faintest hint of a smirk, he looked back at the painting and tickled the pear. It squirmed, and he rolled his eyes as the portrait swung upon to reveal the kitchens. Just as he stepped inside, something that had been bugging him sprung to the tip of his tongue and he found himself spinning around to yell out, "Wait a moment, Weasley!"

Fred and George pivoted and frowned back at him. "What?"

Jogging over to the pranksters, Draco swallowed hard before blurting out, "Do you...Do you think that it would be looked down upon if you were pureblood and gay?"

"Pureblood and—?" George looked startled. "Well, probably...I mean, they want more pureblood kids, don't they? Keep the lines of so-called 'nobility' running through the veins of young wizards and witches everywhere...You-Know-Who would support that theory, of course."

Fred's eyes narrowed. "But why do _you_ want to know?"

"Just wondering," Draco said evasively, and started to walk back to the kitchens.

"Malfoy," one of the twins called after him, "you would probably just have to have a kid with a pureblood woman, and then do whatever you want. It would be fine; I'm sure there's been gay purebloods in the past. Don't worry about it."

Draco sighed to himself, allowing the portrait of the fruit to swing shut behind him. "Yeah, sure," he muttered, thinking about a certain green-eyed piece of forbidden fruit. "Don't worry about it."

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**(A little note: I'm skipping now to an Order meeting. Sev is the MC of this part. It gets a little, uh...morbid here...I'm feeling depressed and my friend is in the hospital from cutting herself too deeply. So instead of doing the same and succumbing to my old habit, I took my frustrations out in writing.)**

Severus sat down heavily in his favorite leather chair, mopping blood away from where it was trickling down into his eye. He'd just returned from a Death Eater meeting, had been under the Cruciatus for nearly eight minutes, and was hoping to sit back and relax for the rest of the night with some firewhiskey and plenty of sleep. Of course, he was not so fortunate; just barely five minutes after he'd returned his fireplace roared with green flames and Albus Dumbledore's head appeared.

"Severus?" Looking around, he spotted Snape in his chair and smiled. "Ah, there you are. I was wondering where you were; the Order meeting is due to begin."

Dammit! He'd forgotten about the meeting! Forcing himself to his feet, Severus slid said feet into his boots and swung his traveling cloak back over his lean frame. "I apologize, Headmaster," he said quietly. "I just returned from a different meeting."

"Ah. Voldemort called?"

"Yes."

"Good, good...I was beginning to worry that he was losing faith in you. Do you have information for us?" Albus asked. He was eying the gash on his brow, Severus realized, and he quickly moved his head out of the light so that the cut wasn't visible.

"Yes, Albus. I will be there momentarily," he sighed, and with one last smile Dumbledore vanished. Moving a bit sluggishly now, Severus went to his private supply of potions and pulled out three different vials—one to help the aftereffects of the Cruciatus, one to aid his blood in clotting, and one to speed up the healing process itself. He downed all three of them in rapid succession, so accustomed to the bitter tastes that he didn't even grimace, and hurried back out the door of his quarters. Severus let his thoughts drift as he strode up out of the dungeons and out the doors of Hogwarts, puzzling over Draco Malfoy's drastic change in attitude. Not once had he been forced to give the spoiled child so much as a warning glare. Draco hadn't been acting up.

It made him uneasy.

Was his godson planning something crazy? Or was he the crazy one, mentally accusing the boy of ill intent? No...No, he wasn't crazy. At least, not to the extent that it would harm himself and others.

Pivoting on his heel, Severus Apparated to the front step of Grimmauld Place, and nearly fell backward as he banged his forehead against the door. "Bloody hell," he hissed, gripping his throbbing head in his hands before stalking into the godforsaken house that he loathed so much. He never seemed to have great luck when he was here, he thought sourly.

"Severus," Albus greeted as he entered the kitchen. "How nice of you to join us."

"It's about time," Black grumbled. "The meeting's already more than halfway over."

Steadfastly ignoring the idiot, Severus sat down in his usual seat—lamenting the loss of his cozy leather armchair—and listened as Kingsley Shacklebolt finished his report on the current condition of the Department of Mysterious. His thoughts began drifting after he started hearing the same old reassurances that all was well at the moment, and thus failed to hear Albus calling his name.

A rough shake on the shoulder yanked him out of his musings, and Severus sneered at Lupin before slowly standing up to give his report. He steadfastly ignored the glares sent his way. His forearm gave a twinge that demanded his attention, though the sudden feeling of longing had nothing to do with the Dark Mark. Severus resisted the urge to scratch at the scarred skin on his wrist, and sucked in a deep breath in order to rid his mind of unsavory thoughts. "The Dark Lord was displeased tonight," he announced. Blood oozed slowly down the back of his neck from half-crescent wounds—courtesy of Voldemort and his astonishingly sharp fingernails. "He gave us a pep talk of sorts, and murdered a Muggle man."

Some of the other Order members looked at him in disgust, as if wondering why he had not stopped the death from happening in the first place. Severus paid them no mind as he braced himself and murmured, "I also made a mistake—perhaps a dire one."

"A mistake?" Albus's attention was fully on him now. "What happened?"

"During his speech, he informed us that your 'reign' upon us would soon end." Severus paused, trying to stall. "I just so happened to laugh when he said that, rather loudly."

Black scoffed, leaning back in his seat. "You laughed at the idea of 'Dumbledore's Reign'? More like you laughed when the Muggle was killed, and you were rewarded for it. Albus, he's obviously hiding something."

Yes, he was hiding something—he was hiding a great many somethings, in fact. His arm gave another twinge, as if agreeing. "I assure you," he said blandly, "that I did not so much as set loose a giggle when the Muggle was murdered."

_I was too busy writhing under the Cruciatus curse to do more than simply notice the death._

Dumbledore seemed to guess what he was thinking, for he stood up and came over to ask quietly, "Are you injured? Hurting in any way?"

"No, Headmaster," he said stiffly. More blood slipped down into his collar. "I am not wounded."

Albus sent him a long, searching look before turning back to his seat, and Severus tuned in to what Black was saying. "We all know that eyes are the windows to the soul, and his eyes are as black as the mark on his arm," Sirius hissed scathingly. "Even Lily saw that in the end."

Severus saw red, and it was suddenly very clear to him that he had only one way of dealing with the frustration. To make matters worse, he thought as he excused himself to use the restroom, his eyes felt rather watery because of the last remark. For it was true.

He closed the washroom door behind him and locked it tightly, leaning heavily against the wall for a moment. Then the realization that he was alone crashed into him. With a fevered intensity he hadn't known himself to possess, he ripped his shirt sleeve open and transfigured a toothbrush—hopefully Black's—into a razor blade. Before his common sense could come trickling back to him, he lifted the sharp razor to his left wrist and made a shallow cut.

Blood surged to the surface of the tiny incision, and it was as if a dam had broken loose. He began slashing at his arm furiously, leaving long gashes that dribbled crimson.

_What the fuck am I doing?_ he thought abruptly, and threw the razor away from himself as if burned. He wrapped his arms around his middle, as if trying to keep himself from splitting apart; he shut his eyes tightly against the tears of horror and shame, and tried not to sneak a peek at the razor on the floor: the forbidden fruit that plagued him every single day.

"What the hell is your problem?" he demanded of himself. "You're a father...Your son needs you! Albus needs you to spy for him, and here you are cutting yourself!"

Merlin, he was such a weakling. He'd given in to his old habit. Severus felt sick, and pressed his fingers against the deep gashes he'd made in an attempt to staunch the onslaught of blood.

A knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts, and he started in alarm. Oh, no. How was he going to hide the cuts? The cuts _he_ had made? "Severus? Are you all right in there? It's been some time now..."

"I'm fine, Albus," he called back. "I'm just feeling a tad ill. I must have eaten something spoiled."

There was a brief pause, and a sigh. "If you say so, my boy," Albus replied. Before he left to go back to the kitchen, he said, "If you ever need to tell me something, don't hesitate to interrupt anything that I am doing. I will always listen to what you have to say."

_He knows,_ was Severus's first panicky thought, before he realized that Albus couldn't possibly have any way of knowing what he did to himself. He leaned against the wall once more, and tried to imagine what Dumbledore would say if he admitted to committing countless acts of self mutilation. _He would be disgusted with you, of course. Severus Snape, the greasy git of the dungeons, most hated teacher at Hogwarts, cuts himself! Step right up, for this limited time offer! Five Galleons to watch him cut himself! Ten to see him attempt suicide!_

No, Severus could not tell him, no matter what happened. He knew was he did was wrong. He knew it was revolting. But nothing was worse, he reminded himself while rolling down his torn sleeve and tucking his arm into the shadows of his teaching robes, then the disappointment that would be in the eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

**Yeah...That definitely got morbid. Damn, Halloween brings out whacky plot bunnies! Review?**


	15. AUTHOR'S NOTE!

This, my darlings, is an author's note. Yeah, I know. You guys can strangle me in my sleep if you'd like. I knowwwww I haven't been updating...But that's because I sort of realized that my story sucks. Big time. Compared to how I normally write (as in, my novel), it's horrible.

So...I'm gonna rewrite it. Yep, you heard me—R E W R I T E. It's going to be a lot better, and you guys are going to totally dig it. At least, I hope you do.

I mean, c'mon guys. Nobody warms up to each other after like, two days...Sev and Harry got a mushy-gushy daddy/son relaysh way too quickly. So...they're going to hate each other for a while longer this time. Also, the chapters are going to be a lot longer (I think...hope...).

But, hey! You guys can check up on how I'm doing by clicking the link, 'kay? It's a blog I'm part of. My name is Corinne (il est française!), so you can find me on there by looking at everything with the name 'Cori' on it. Because, like, that's what people call me. Oh...and you just might find a post about some girls mistaking me for Justin Bieber. It's a long story—so basically, I have really short auburn hair, and ever since I tried to dye it white blonde it's been brown. I was also crossdressing, because guy clothes are comfy as hell. So, erm...

The link to the blog is right below here!

Http:/ saawakm. Blogspot. Com/

Take the spaces out and there ya go! I'll be updating soon, I hope, with the rewrites. It'll still be on the same story; I'll post author's notes to tell you when a chapter has been updated.

Anyhoo, I love you all (though not as much as I love my ex/best friend Emily, because she's totally awesome).


	16. Final Author

Well hey, guys. It's been a while; two years to be exact. A lot has happened since then. I'm an adult now, I turned into a dude (sort of), I still look thirteen, and I've had approximately seventeen thousand haircuts because my hair grows way too fast.

Also I totally lied about that rewrite but I'm sure that's not news hahaaa...I actually did start to do it, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to rewrite more than one chapter. I think the entire thing was just not salvageable. 100 plus reviews or not, the entire story was pretty crappy. Also, the title is really pretentious and kind of makes me cringe.

Actually all of my fanfictions make me cringe.

So yeah, this story is completely and utterly abandoned. Sorry about that. It was a total rip-off of other fanfictions just like it anyway.

I'm trying to get an original novel published, so that's good news I suppose. Moving to Canada next year for college, gonna live with a super old internet friend. Hella.

I guess this is kind of goodbye. Maybe someday I'll write more fanfictions for other fandoms, or maybe even this one again, but Dirge of Emerald isn't going to be rewritten, or updated, or anything else. So...that's it, then. Thanks for sticking with the story this whole time. I really appreciated all of the feedback.

Oh, also - goddamn what the hell was wrong with me two years ago. I just went back and read the last author's note. Ugh. God. I always hear stuff like "you're going to regret literally every single thing you did when you were 14-16" but I hadn't believed it until now. I was such an annoying brat jfc.

Totally forgot I used to call myself Cori. My name is Cam now, but this time I don't go around telling everyone. I was a really pretentious sixteen-year-old, wow...


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